Glycerine
by Bathorybabe
Summary: Tormented by a demon who wears his former lover's face, Cullen recalls the journey that brought him and Thais Amell together, and the heartache that followed in it's wake. No matter how he tried, he could not forgive her for what she was, and she refused to be anything less. A Cullen/Amell fic set pre-origins (with a few splashes of in game scenes thrown in).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello lovelies! I'm back, this time with a Cullen/Amell tale. So, as noted by the title, this entire story was inspired by the song "Glycerine" by Bush (Try and guess what decade I grew up in!). I was listening to it one day and it just struck me as absolutely perfect for Cullen and Amell's relationship, and thus an idea was born. For those of you who were **_**NOT **_**pre-teens in the 90's I heartily suggest you listen to as it is one of the all-time greatest bittersweet love songs ever. **

**Just a few words about this story, mostly relating to story telling. Some of you may be confused by my initial portrayal of Cullen, but hear me out: Due to his reaction to mages in Origins and the beginning of DAII, I think that the our dear templar was, at one time, a very by-the-book untrusting Templar. I believe that only after having experienced love for Amell and Meredith's madness did he begin to loosen up and soften in his attitude towards mages.**

**Also, I will be playing merry havoc with the use of magic. I always felt that the range/use of spells in the game was severely limiting, especially when it came to blood magic (seriously, there could have been SOOOOO many more badass spells), and frankly, not very fun to write. So forgive me my made-up spells and somewhat twisted take on the discipline.**

**Anywho, love to all, please R&R and I hope this leads somewhere awesome!**

_It must be your skin I'm sinking in_

_It must be for real 'cause now I can feel_

_And I didn't mind, it's not my kind, _

_it's not my time to wonder why._

_Everything's gone white and everything's grey_

_Now you're here now you're away_

_I don't want this, remember that_

_I'll never forget where you're at._

_Don't let the days go by_

_Glycerine_

_Glycerine_

_I'm never alone, I'm alone all the time_

_Are you at one or do you lie?_

_We live in a wheel where everyone steals_

_But when we rise it's like strawberry fields_

_I treated you bad, you bruised my face_

_Couldn't love you more you got a beautiful taste_

_Don't let the days go by_

_Could have been easier on you_

_I couldn't change though I wanted to_

_Should have been easier by three_

_Our old friend fear and you and me_

_Glycerine_

_Don't let the days go by_

_Glycerine_

_Black moon white again_

_Black moon white again_

_And she falls around me_

_I needed you more when we wanted us less_

_Could not kiss, just regress_

_It might just be clear, simple and plain_

_Well, that's just fine that's just one of my names_

_Don't let the days go by_

_Could've been easier on you, you, you_

_Glycerine._

_**-**__"Glycerine by Bush-_

Kinloch Hold, 9:30 Dragon

Cullen fell to his knees and spit blood upon the floor, his ribs protesting with every panting breath. Distantly he could hear screams echoing off the stone, the cylindrical nature of the tower spiraling the sound up until it reached the apex with a ghostly resonance.

"Such music," his tormentor muttered dreamily as she stalked towards him, hips swaying a seductive rhythm. She passed through his magical prison as if it were nothing but air and gracefully knelt mere inches from him. Cullen scrambled away, scuttling on his hands and feet until his back hit the wall and he gazed up the creature with a mixture of vile disdain and fear.

"Keep your distance, demon," he warned, though his voice quavered. The creature in question laughed low and throaty, the sound made to spurn wicked thoughts and deed in men, and raised a hand between them, eyes flashing.

"Why would I do that, when there are so many things we can engage in close-up?" the desire demon purred, reaching out to touch him. Cullen growled and batted her hand away, succeeding only in irritating her. She sighed as if put upon and lashed out lighting fast, talons raking down is face in a harsh and stinging line. "Tsk, tsk, my sweet boy," she said with mock concern, "you know what comes when you resist my charms."

"Don't touch me," he hissed, hands rising feebly in pathetic fists. He had to keep fighting, no matter how maker damned tired he was. He refused to submit to this violation, to succumb to Uldred's vile plot. He had survived being beaten and tortured, being thrown behind magical bars and left in the keep of a deranged demon; he could damn well survive a bit more.

"Why not?" the demon pouted, having the audacity to look wounded, "we could have so much fun you, and I, if you would just let me in that pretty little mind of yours. I bet there are so many desires just waiting to lash out and break free."

Cullen growled and futilely tried to punch the demon in the face, but the move was sloppy and half formed, and his fist hit nothing but air before limply falling to his lap. It was useless, he was too wounded and he closed his eyes in shame. The demon laughed before harshly back handing him, sending him skidding across the stone to lay prostrate on his back, vision swimming with black streaks.

"Now," she murmured, placing one cloven foot upon his belly and leaning down to breathe hot and acidic in his ear, "let us see what you long for in the lonely hours of the night." Cullen screamed in pain and horror as she slapped a palm upon his chest and sent her tainted magic creeping through his body. It felt as if every nerve was a light with unimaginable pleasure, so great that it bordered on pain, and he arched his back at the sensation. It was over in a manner of seconds and he limply dropped to the ground, sweat coalescing on his brow as he relearned how to breathe.

The demon began to chuckle, low at first and then maniacally, as if she were overcome with hysterics. Cullen winced at sound and shakily rolled onto his stomach, arms straining to push upright.

"Oh that is beyond rich," his captor cackled, a sickening smile painting her hauntingly alien face, "such a present you have given me. I shall have fun breaking you down."

"You will _never_ break me," Cullen panted in promise, finally managing to gain his footing, and he swayed with the effort to remain upright.

"Maybe not me, but _she_ just very well might," the demon purred, her half naked body shimmering as a mages robe of palest lilac wove itself into being around her lush form. Cullen's eyes widened as he took in the garment, recognizing it almost immediately and his memory teased him with a painful and heart wrenching past.

"No," he whispered, pressing his fists hard against his eyes as if he could wipe the image from his gaze.

"Cullen," a beguiling and rich voice whispered softly, the sound weaving through his mind and setting up shop in his heart. It was as if she had never left and he felt his body grow heavy with longing at the melodic and dulcet tones of her speech. When he at last forced himself to open his eyes, the desire demon was nowhere to be found, but something much more dangerous had taken her place.

"You aren't her," he insisted, though he could not keep the wonder from his voice.

"Cullen," the woman once more beseeched, her violet storm-could eyes flashing at him in the sweetest way, a hand out stretched in offering. He bit back a sob and dropped to his knees, ignoring the way her delicate fingers beckoned him, and began to pray, hands clashed fiercely against his desire. He needed to hold on to himself, to pour his energy into faith and fortitude, because he was unwilling to admit just how close he had come to taking that hand and all the pleasure it had offered.

As his lips mumbled a litany of pleas to the Maker, his mind betrayed him and wandered to the last time he had seen Thais Amell and the long, sad story of their ill fated relationship that never should have been.

~oOo~

A year and six months prior

Thais Amell wearily rose from her knees and wiped her hands absently on her stained and tattered robes. Sparing one more glance down at the boy who slept quietly on the cot at her feet she allowed herself a small smile. The child would live, and it was a small blessing, for others had not been so lucky. Her, along with twelve other mages, had spent a week in the small, isolated village of Andralia, tending to the hundred plus citizens that had fallen victim to the plague that had descended upon the community without warning. It had been bad timing, for just a week prior to receiving the plea for help from the village the majority of harrowed healers had been sent to meet with the Grey Warden encampment to aid in the battle against the rising army of darkspawn. Rumor had it that another blight was upon Thedas, and the Wardens sought to end it before it had the opportunity to become a true threat. And so when the plea from Andralia had come, First Enchanter Irving had no choice but to send his two remaining healers and handful of untested apprentices to cleanse the village of plague. And so it was that Thais found herself free of the confines of the circle for the first time in living memory, and despite the dire circumstances, she intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

Walking wearily to a nearby stack of crates pushed against the far wall of the makeshift hospital, she idly rubbed the sweat from her brow with her forearm, wishing fiercely for a bath and a hot meal. Plopping down upon the nearest sturdy looking box, she let out a sigh and leaned her head against the rough wooden wall. A light, and teasing breeze rustled past her nose and she smiled warmly, eyes seeking out the source. When her gaze laded on a small crack in the wood she leaned closer, fair pressing her nose right to the wall. A strand of matted, scarlet hair tickled her cheek but she paid it no mind and breathed deep of the lavender scented air.

"Thais, come away from there and help me stave off boredom," she heard her friend Anders call to her with a lecherous lilt to his words. She ignored him and smiled as she once more felt a breeze upon her skin.

"Don't you have patients to tend to?" she wondered dreamily, mind wandering to the open space beyond the hospital and the wonders it could hold.

"They're well enough," he replied dismissively and he gracefully sank into an occupied crate to her left. "All dreaming of sweet nonsense in the fade. I find myself…_without purpose_ at the moment, if you get my drift."

"Anders," she asked idly, eyes still closed, "tell me about rain."

"Again?" he whined, "you know I have far more interesting bits of wisdom I could impart to you, love."

"I think you've taught me everything I could ever hope to know about _that_ discipline," she said wryly, shooting him an amused look over her shoulder before once more turning her attention to the small crack in the wood.

"I don't know about that," he said wickedly as he snaked a hand around her waist and leaned in close to breathe sinfully in her ear, "we could always move onto the more advanced levels of study." Thais slapped his arm, never once giving him the courtesy of her full attention, and Anders sighed wearily before acquiescing to her request.

"Fine," he muttered sulkily, "Rain. What can I say? It's wet…and cold, and it causes your robes to smell all moldy and rotten."

"You're not telling it right!" Thais whined as she rounded on him and stamped her foot. As the only mage she knew who had managed to escape the confines of the tower, Anders had the unique pleasure of experiencing the outside world free of templar influence. It was a favorite pastime of hers to pester him with questions that annoyed and amused, satisfying her curiosity and sparking her imagination. She had been taken to the circle at the young age of three, and she was hard pressed to recall a memory that did not include the oppressive stone walls of Kinloch hold. She had not been allowed to venture outside for over seventeen years, and so she lived vicariously through her wild and daring friend, holding his tales close to her heart in the despairing dark of night. Somewhere along the line she had succumbed to Anders' charms, and tumbled head first into the cad's bed, and for the past year the two had engaged in a casual dalliance of passion and stories. It wasn't a grand love affair by any stretch of the imagination; both knew that they came to one another to stave off the loneliness and boredom that came with living in a gilded prison, and that emotions such as love would only ruin what little happiness they had managed to achieve. Every mage eventually learned the lesson that love was something the Templars could hold over you until they twisted the very nature of such an emotion into something terrifying and deadly.

"Am I?" Anders mocked, arms pulling her close, "What will you give me if I do?"

"Do you ever get tired of playing the lothario?" she asked, resting her hands lightly upon his shoulders.

"How can I when I'm surrounded by beautiful young women on a regular basis?" he asked earnestly, shocked that she would even ask such a question.

"There _are_ other hobbies to be had, you know. Have you considered taking up knitting?"

"And what would I knit, Thais?" he deadpanned, "cunning sweater sets? Little wool staff cozies?"

"Fine, fine, have it your way…just remember what the Chantry says about idle hands," she sing songed in warning.

"My hands aren't idle, love," he said, hand gliding around her thigh, fingers inching dangerously close to places that would land them both in trouble, "they're very well occupied."

"Get it a rest, Anders," she snapped, "this really isn't the time or place."

Anders shrugged and rose to leave, causing Thais to huff in irritation before closing her eyes and giving way.

"Very well," she said begrudgingly, "if you tell me about rain, in the _correct_ way, you shall receive the undying friendship of this beautiful young woman, and if you're very lucky, a thankful hug."

"Remind me never to invite you my name day parties, you give the most appalling gifts," he said with a frown, as he joined her once more. "But let it never be said that I don't have a few chivalric bones in my body…it wouldn't do to refuse a lady. Rain…you feel it like a kiss upon your skin, the kind that sends shivers up your arms and leaves gooseflesh long after the act has finished. It cools with the breeze and brings with it a scent unlike any other, suffusing the air with an odor you can almost taste, but never quite name."

"Thank you," Thais whispered when he had finished, a pleased smile painted on face. Anders grinned down at her before swooping into to claim her bee stung lips in a skillful kiss. Thais rolled her eyes but slid her hands up to tangle in his pale blond hair, returning his passions with amused tolerance. She could hear the annoyed snickers from her fellow mages but paid them no mind as Ander's hand roamed seductively over her robes. Just as things were about to go too far, a harsh clearing of a throat had the two breaking away from each other, hastily putting distance between them like two children caught out at doing something wrong.

A young templar, no more than twenty, twenty five years stood before them, a severe and disapproving look upon his features. Thais blushed in embarrassment and averted her eyes, though she could not help but sneak a glance at his appearance once more. He was handsome, in an infuriating sort of way, his face all sharp and chiseled lines. A shadow of stubble clung to his chin, the same strawberry blond as that of the thick hair that graced his head.

"There will be none of that," he commanded, voice dripping with disapproval. Anders chuckled lazily at his tone and rolled his eyes.

"You really need to lighten up, Cullen," the mage offered playfully, "all that chantry taught repression isn't good for the psyche. Maybe we should find you a girl, you know, if only to help ease the tension in those lovely templar built muscles. It'll do wonders for your personality."

"I am to escort you and your companion to supper," Cullen ground out through clenched teeth, pointedly ignoring the mage's jibe. "I expect there will no attempts at escape during the event, is that clear?"

"Ruin all my fun," Anders' pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You give him quite a bit of credit, sir," Thais said wryly, elbowing her friend in mirth, "Even Anders here needs more than a few yards worth of a head start to slip your grip."

"I'm offended by your lack of faith!" he replied in mock outrage. Thais giggled quietly, though abruptly stopped when she felt Cullen's gaze fall on her.

"I am well aware of this one's penchant for flight," he said coldly, "I refuse to take chances, no matter how great the odds seem."

"Well, isn't that just oh-so proper and dour of you," Thais said sweetly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly this was the man's first assignment outside of the Circle's walls. It was so painfully obvious that he was operating by some silly book of conduct that he had memorized. One glance at his fellow Templars would have shown him how ridiculous he was acting, but it seemed that Cullen was very set in his state of mind.

"You're Thais Amell, correct?" he asked after a moment. She nodded in reply, refusing to back down from his steely gaze. "I'm surprised they let you out of the circle."

"And why is that?" she asked innocently, a bite of anger flavoring her words, "Apart from Ismae and Anders here, I'm the closest you lot have to a harrowed mage, what with all the others being shipped off to parts unknown. Such troublesome creatures, darkspawn."

"I'm surprised they let you out, what with your history," Cullen continued, wariness set in everyone of his bones.

"Tread carefully Cullen," Anders warned as he felt Thais tense at the words. The Templar ignored the mages warning and continued on his foolish path.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you nearly made tranquil not five months ago?"

"If you value your tongue at all you will stop speaking right now," Thais growled, the blood in her veins turning to ice.

"Yes, now I remember," Cullen continued, unaffected by her shift in mood, "You attacked a Templar…nearly crippled him for life."

"That oily bastard deserved it," she spat, stepping towards him in anger.

"That 'oily bastard' has a name, Sir Edmund, and he is a friend of mine," Cullen said darkly.

"Imagine my shock. All you Templar's are cut from the same cloth, aren't you,?" she muttered, syllables dripping with disdain. Before Cullen could offer further argument she pushed past him and exited the stuffy, and oppressive hospital, desperately needing to breathe deep of fresh air. She could hear Anders beleaguered sigh and the Templars gasp of outrage chase after her, but she paid it no mind. She burst out of the doorway hastily walked towards the large tent that had been erected as a make shift dining hall and tried to steel herself against memories that still had the power to hurt. Edmunds hands fumbling at her robes, his acidic and cloying breath fanning across her face as he taunted her with sadistic reasoning. Her tears coursing down her face as she tried to reach for the magic inside her. A blast of power and Edmund's limp and bloodied form lying prone on the stones. As the memories bombarded her she could feel it, an unknown power pressing beneath her skin, itching to be lashed out. Thais had no idea what this strange sensation was, only that she had felt it on and off her entire life. It was tied to her magic, of that she was certain, and it came with frustrating side effects. While she had excelled at healing magic, her efforts in other schools of discipline had not come as easily. It was not that she lacked power, far from it, but try as she might she could not effectively cast offensive spells with any sort of predictability. One day she would excel and the next she would fail, and it was all tied to this strange power that lay inside her. Her instructors insisted her failures were due to a lack of discipline, but she knew they were wrong. It was something else entirely, and the "something else" in question was rising within her as memories of a vile encounter plagued her thoughts.

"No!" she cried out, pressing her fists against her violet eyes in an effort to wipe the dastardly images from her mind. Breathing deeply, she focused on centering herself in the present, and slowly, the sounds and smells of a village come back to her, and she was once again steady in her reasoning; the strange power receding from her in a tingling rush. Sighing wearily she opened her eyes and began to make her way towards the tent. It was then that the sky burst open above her.

Blasts of power lit the air and Thais suddenly found herself in the midst of a torrential storm, sheets of rain falling against her skin in an icy burst. She gasped at the sensation and whipped her head to the sky, eyes landing upon a mage-cast tempest that engulfed the tiny village. Wind howled and lightening flashed, and the once quiet shore line that framed the town began to churn violently. As more spells were cast, Thais saw Templars pour from buildings, searching out the cause of such upheaval.

"What did you do?" a voice boomed accusingly over her shoulder, and she whipped around to find Cullen standing before her, sword drawn.

"Nothing!" she snapped, "I'm just as confused as you are."

"It's an uprising," Anders panted as he sprinted to join them, head nodding to the tent, "see?"

The pair followed his gaze and saw nine of their fellow mages, staffs whipping frenetically through the air, battling against a contingent of Templars.

"Is this your doing?" Cullen demanded, rounding on Anders.

"Of course not," he snorted, as if the idea was offensive, "I prefer my escape attempts to be handled with some measure of grace and guile. This is just…sloppy."

Cullen frowned and glanced back at his comrades, clearly torn between wanting to aid his fellow Templars and wanting to keep an eye on the two mages before him.

"Go on then," Anders said, hands shooing the man away, "Don't let us stop you from participating in the slaughter."

"And leave you two alone? To aid your fellow mages in their bloody revolt, I think not," Cullen said stoically, his shoulders set. Anders sighed and shook his head, as if deeply saddened by the Templar's words.

"Pity," he murmured before thrusting a hand out and calling out a simple sleep spell. Cullen's eyes went wide in shock and outrage before he crumpled to the ground, chest rising a falling with measured breaths. Thais gaped at the display in shock and rounded on her friend in outrage.

"Anders!"

"Come on," he said intently, grabbing her hand in his, "this will be fun." Thais stumbled along as he drug her to the small dock the village had constructed to receive trade. Two small, and barely sea worthy fishing boats, swayed on the violent water, their only anchor a thin rope tied to land.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed as Anders began to climb into one of the vessels.

"This is too good a chance not to take," he said dismissively, a hand reached out in supplication, "come with me."

"With you?" she parroted dumbly, eyes blinking.

"No time like the present, love. You wanted to live the real world? Now's your chance." When she made no move to follow he sighed wearily and grasped her face between his hands. "Look at them all," he said gesturing to the Templars, "distracted, each and every one. It's just too easy. Escape with me and I'll show you everything I've ever told you in my stories."

"Anders, no! Are you touched in the head?" she protested, "They'll catch you! They have your phylactery."

"Can't catch me if they're dead," he said grimly as the pair watched a Templar be felled by a massive bolt of lightning to the chest.

"And our fellow mages? Or did you not realize they'd more than likely be dead as well?" she spat, horrified that he would leave them behind to a grizzly fate. "You know they won't win, they can't…we never do."

"I can't save everyone, love," he said, eyes gone sorrowful and wide, "but I can save you. Come on."

"No," she said firmly, shrugging out of his grasp, "I'm not going to be held responsible for their _or_ your foolish actions."

"Have it your way," he said quickly before pressing a fierce and passionate kiss upon her lips, "take care of yourself, Thais."

She watched helplessly as he launched himself from the dock, his lean arms pushing away from the shore line. Her lips parted, a cry for him to come back readied on her tongue, but her words were silenced as a pair of strong arms gripped her from behind, a hand reaching to clasp over her mouth.

"That was quite foolish of you," Cullen hissed in her ear, and she froze in a panic, all too aware of how another Templar had held her in the same manner just a few months prior."

"Let go of me," she mumbled from between his fingers, but his grip tightened and her anxiety boiled over, and she began to thrash beneath his hands. A well placed elbow to his stomach had him cursing and loosening his hold on her, just enough for her squirm away. Without thinking she lunged towards the remaining boat, hands scratching over the sodden wood as she gracelessly fell into the vessel. Cullen was right behind her and followed suit, trying to restrain her as best he could. The motion of the water below their feet had them lurching to the side and Thais lost her footing, falling into the Templar and catching her shoulder on the sharp peak of his chest plate. The metal sliced through fabric and skin effortlessly and she cried out in pain, hands instantly clapping over the wound and becoming sticky with her blood. Cullen took advantage of her moment of distraction and restrained her once more, eyes flashing in triumph.

"Let her go!" a voice boomed out, and the two whipped their heads around to find a row of mages standing before them, staffs out stretched in warning. Three Templars knelt on the ground before them, bound and bloody. "If you value your life, Templar, you will let her go."

"Ismae?" Thais asked in astonishment as she finally managed to recognize the mages face.

"Just give me a moment dear," the older woman responded musically, eyes never straying from Cullen's face, "we'll have you free in a jiffy." Thais gaped dumbfounded at her mentor and felt the world spin. Never in a million years would she have pegged her sweet, doting, dotty old mentor capable of participating in such a foolish crusade.

"What in the name of all that is holy do you think you're doing?" she demanded, forgetting for a moment that she was held captive by a very angry Templar.

"What I should have done long ago," the woman responded, "refusing to be chained like criminals by the Chantry's lap dogs. No master but magic!" Thais felt Cullen stiffen at the words, and she glanced up at him in confusion, only to find his face filled with vile hatred.

"You're one of her followers, aren't you?" he demanded, "I didn't think her poison had spread to the circle."

"Her faithful are legion," Ismae said bitingly, "and your precious order cannot stand before us."

"Will someone _please_ enlighten the one person who is out of the loop?" Thais demanded, struggling against Cullen's hold, breaking free and glaring up at him.

"I had hoped to have time to ease you in, my dear," Ismae said, voice gone gentle, "but things moved farther a pace than I expected. I shall explain everything in due time. Now come, join us in our victory and we shall be free of their hold."

"Free?" Thais asked warily, something about the woman's tone causing her to fear her meaning.

"Once we have dispatched of our oppressors we will take our leave, and the world will be laid bare before us," Ismae said with religious fervor.

"You expect me to kill these men?" Thais gasped in shock and she heard Cullen draw his sword in warning. She made to round on him and make a scathing remark, but hissed in a breath as her injury burned in protest and the strange power began to ripple beneath her skin.

"You do not wish their deaths?" Ismae retorted in disbelief, "You, who have suffered degradation at their hands? Hands that were supposed to protect and guide you? Play the innocent all you want, my child, but you despise their order as much as anyone, and have even greater reason to do so."

"That does not mean that I will lay myself so low as to murder them," she protested, an ill sort of feeling crawling over her as the unknown magic grew larger within her, filling her up in the most remarkable way, "it makes me no better than them to do so evil a thing."

"If you do not stand with us, then you are against us," Ismae said coldly, eyes narrowed.

"Ismae, have you lost your damn mind?" she cried, the feeling of otherness almost over powering her, "I'm your pupil! You practically raised me!"

"Maharette teaches there is no loyalty but to that of freedom," the old woman said softly, regret etched in her voice. "I am sorry child, but you leave me no choice."

Just as the old woman raised her staff, Thais thrust her blood covered hand out before her, crying, "No!" and the world exploded. Thais was thrown back into Cullen, the pair collapsing upon the boat's slatted floor in a breath stealing rush. Distantly she could hear screams and the wet sounds of flesh being torn from bone, and above it all a hellish sort of howling that rent the very air. Thais' vision swam before her eyes and just as darkness claimed her she had the fleeting thought, _What have I done?_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: thanks to all for the reviews and the favs/follows!**

A gentle rocking motion lulled Thais awake and she blinked groggily into consciousness. A gentle stain of star-kiss lavender brushed the sky, altering her to the fact that twilight had descend and she felt her lungs seize in panic at the loss of time. She jolted to her feet and immediately tumbled out of the small boat she had forgotten she was in and landed with a resounding splash in the water below. After a few creative curses she pushed herself to her knees and glanced to the docks, only to find the tip of a sword leveled at her throat, a disapproving Cullen glaring down the blade at her.

"Ah, and we're back to this," she sighed, hanging her head with a weary shake before settling back on her haunches.

"I knew you were a danger," he spat, taking a step towards her in anger.

"I've always been a danger," she glared up at him through a veil of sopping wet hair, "or so claims your Chantry. All us mages, the whole lot, just one great big mass of villains ready to swoop upon Thedas and wage unholy war upon all that is good…like puppies and rainbows."

"It's your Chantry too, and don't play innocent…you and I both know very well what you are."

"What I am is _wet_," she said pointedly, climbing stiffly to her feet, "so if we're quite finished-"

"You're a Maleficar!" he screamed, silencing her with the depth of his outrage. She blinked rapidly at him, face blank and controlled before collapsing into a fit of hysterics. Cullen watched her in growing agitation as she hugged her sides and dabbed gently at the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

"Oh that is just delightful," she panted in between giggles, "here I had you pegged as some joyless little twat with no sense of humor."

Cullen dropped his sword in anger and stomped towards her, grabbing her fiercely. When one hand met with her forgotten wound she hissed in pain and then cried out in annoyance when he raised her blood stained hand to her face.

"I do not jest," he ground out through clenched teeth as he shook her hand violently, "do you see the cause of what you have done? You cast a Rending, apprentice Amell, a level of spellcraft that few ever achieve, and one of the most vile, forbidden disciplines of blood magic. I name you for what you are."

Thais stared at the water logged blood that dripped from her hand in horror, her already pale skin leeched of color as she weighed the measure and implications of his words. She glanced from her palm to his eyes, and tried to wrench from his grasp, but his fingers dug harder into her flesh, refusing to give way.

"You're wrong," she whispered. When his face did not change expression she screamed a repeating of her words, eliciting an annoyed flinch from the Templar. "You were there," she reasoned, "I didn't key a spell, I barely said a word, and I have never heard of this-this 'Rending' let alone have the knowledge or power to cast it."

"And yet a pile of twisted corpses disputes your claim," he said quietly. It was then that Thais realized the pair were surrounded by silence and calm, crazed mages and violent storms nowhere to be found. She ventured a glance over Cullen's shoulder and felt her stomach lurch in despair. The Templar released her as she began to wretch, falling to her knees with a splash as she purged herself into the cool waters. When she at last had emptied herself so thoroughly that she felt wrung out and hollow, she hesitantly flicked her eyes once more to the shore line. Cullen tensed as she rose slowly to her feet but did not make to stop her as she walked slowly to the carnage that lay in wait.

It was grizzly, though that is too light a word. The victims had dropped where they stood, so overwhelmed by whatever evil she had done that they had not even chanced to defend themselves. Everywhere her gaze fell she was met with exposed muscle, shining tendons, and lengths of bone so clean it appeared as if flesh had never touched them. The ground was soaked in blood and Thais hovered on the outskirts of its circumference, afraid to touch so fearful a substance.

"I did this?" she whispered in horror, tears falling from her eyes as her mind sought to make sense of all that she was seeing. Cullen came up behind her, face grim and unrelenting.

"It is called Rending because it picks the victim apart piece by piece. I have seen the effects upon a single person, but never in so large a number. You must be powerful indeed to have cast this madness." Thais closed her eyes against the hurtful nature of his words and frantically tried to piece together how she could possibly have been the cause of such slaughter.

_Powerful indeed_. Something about the phrase tickled at her memory and she almost gasped as the puzzle fell into place. The power…the unknown magic that had coursed beneath her skin; it had filled her, demanding and wild just before she had flung her blood covered hand out in protest. Somehow, unknowingly, she had released the strange energy into the world, and this was the bloody and nightmare inducing result. Thinking it prudent to keep such a revelation to herself she turned her attention to the crisis at hand and frowned, mind working rapidly as she came to terms with this new condition of her life.

"You truly did not intend this?" she heard Cullen ask hesitantly and she regarded him coolly over her shoulder.

"What sort of monster ever intends such a thing?" she asked quietly.

"Monsters are only men evolved," Cullen replied absently, paraphrasing the Chantry's teachings. "I've seen too much to not believe in such wickedness."

"Well bully for you, good sir," she bit off in anger, rounding on him, "I'm overjoyed that you are so bloody enlightened as to take this all with a grain of salt, but seeing as this is my first massacre, I would appreciate it if you dug deep down beneath all that stoic Templar gruffness and mustered a little sympathy for my plight!"

"Why should I offer you sympathy?" he asked baffled, "You are nothing to me and are responsible for the deaths of twelve people. My duty does not extend to hand holding."

"Yes, a human being in pain has nothing to do with your _duty_," she said in disgust before striding once more the shoreline. Cullen frowned and followed her progress, mouth opening to defend his position. Such useless rants died stillborn on his tongue as he watched her wade deep into the water until it hit her waist, her robes bunching and floating on the surface.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, confused at her actions.

"I want it gone," she said simply, hands dipping into the cool water and rising to pour over her head, "every bit of it, every last drop and stain. I want no memory of this day." He watched in fascination as she scrubbed the blood and filth from her tattered robes, each pass of water revealing the pale lilac of the fabric that lay beneath the grime. When at last she was free of any crimson stain, she closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her injury, murmured words of healing tumbling over her lips. A ghostly light of blue enveloped her and the action sent shards of shimmering translucent rainbows skittering across the surface of the shore, making it appear as if the night sky had come to landfall at their feet. Cullen gaped at the beauty of it, even as his conscious railed at him that the woman before them was dangerous and a threat to all mankind. It was over in but a minute and when Thais removed her hand there was no trace of her wound, her flesh knit together in creamy perfection. She turned to him then, expression blank and numb, as if daring him to scold her for using her power.

"You said twelve people," she stated monotonously when he offered no condemnation. He blinked at her words and she sighed. "I'm responsible for the deaths of twelve people. There were thirteen on the shore before I…did what I did. Where is the last?"

"Ismae," he said clearing his throat, "she was not among the corpses. I can only assume you obliterated her."

"Or she escaped," Thais reasoned, "She did have her staff at the ready, and having spent quite a few of my days under her tutelage I can tell you her power is mighty. She may have found a way to be spared my accidental use of…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words, fearing that if she did so it would make it all the more real, and she truly would be a blood mage in more than accusation. "Who is Maharette?" she asked quickly, wanting to desperately change the subject.

"A crazed and dangerous woman who has become a thorn in the Chantry's side of late," he answered as he crossed to retrieve his sword. "She is an apostate, escaped from the Circle in Orlais some five years ago. She has evaded every attempt at capture and in her travels she has set up a cult of worship surrounding her legend. Mages paint her as a goddess come to set them free from the shackles of Chantry rule. She encourages them to rise against the Templars by whatever means possible, promising them a future of utopian pleasure once the Chantry lies in ruin."

"Sounds like my kind of woman," Thais muttered as she began to slog back to the shore.

"And you have the audacity to expect sympathy from me?" Cullen said smugly, face turning harsh once more at her words.

"You have the unique pleasure of being privileged, Cullen," she snapped as she rose from the water. "Talk to me again once you have spent your time behind bars of a religion's making." Cullen made to argue against her logic but his tongue became tied as he watched her walk across the shore line. Her robes were sopping wet and clung to her body in the most revealing way; the fabric hugging every curve and leaving very little doubt as to the fitness of her form. He blushed and turned away, clearing his throat in the process.

"What's the matter now?" she huffed as she came to stand beside him.

"Your clothes," he said in discomfort, "they…_cling_. It is distracting."

"Oh, so there is more than dogma and bigotry to the proper templar," she said with an amused lilt, "Don't worry, Cullen, your virtue is safe with me." He felt a flash of warmth, there and gone, followed by a low curse muttered from Thais' lips. He hesitantly turned to her in curiosity and found her shaking her hands out in frustration. A moment later a meager flame appeared in her cupped palm before flickering out into nothing.

"Blast and damn and other unpleasant things," she cried before trying the spell once more. This time it succeeded and her hands began to shimmer with waves of heat. Smiling in triumph she ran her palms over her body slowly, steam trailing in their wake. Cullen knew he should turn away but there was something entrancing about the act as he watched the slow progress of her graceful fingers as they passed over every plane of torso. Moments later her robe no longer clung to her skin and fluttered crisply in the evening breeze. "Is that better Chantry boy?" she asked wryly and he scowled at her impertinence.

"It makes no difference to me," he said testily, arms folded over his chest. Thais laughed, but the sound died as her gaze once again fell on the carnage that lay not three yards from them.

"What happens now?" she asked quietly and Cullen straightened at her words, hand rising to clasp softly around her wrist.

"Now I take you back to the circle and remand you to the Knight-Commander's custody," he said simply. Thais met his gaze without flinching, a testing and admirable sort of defiance flashing through her violet eyes.

"And I'm sure Gregoir will be filled with as much tact and understanding as you are," she deadpanned, "Lead the way, Chantry Boy, don't let my imminent demise stand in the way of protocol."

As night fell across the now quiet village, a scarred and misshapen figure spied on the pair from the cover a cluster of ash trees afforded them.

"I'm sorry to say our dear Thais will not be returning to the gilded tower," Ismae murmured, wincing in pain as the scarred and tender flesh of her face pulled in protest at the movement, "her surprising talents are required elsewhere."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: hello lovelies! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! You are awesome! **

Thais stared dreamily at the night sky, counting every star with scare disguised joy. At last, she was able to trace the constellations she had read so much about in books, and she called to mind the ballads, tragedies, and great epics that had named each one.

"Cullen," she wondered, forgetting for a moment the disdain she held for him, "what is your favorite tale?"

"I beg your pardon?" he grunted as his arms pulled smoothly on the pair of oars that guided them across the lake. The wood dipped and swished below the inky depths and rose, glistening in the moonlight only to repeat the soothing process once more. The two had been crossing Lake Callenhad for over an hour now, and Thais could see the distant shore line creeping ever closer. Cullen had insisted on crossing the waterway, reasoning it would cut their journey in half if they could make landfall on the other side. Thais had show her displeasure by refusing to share the burden of rowing, insisting that if he was in such a Maker damned hurry he could deal with the logistics himself. The journey had been quiet and tense, but as the ebony veil of night fell around them, she found herself being swept up in the wonder of mist-kissed air upon her cheeks and a sky so clear she nearly fainted at the sight.

"What story do you never get tired of hearing? Do you like tales of bloody conflict? Or true love found? True love lost? Or are you partial to the mythos? I find those to be _fascinating._ On every page there are dragons and creatures lost to time, heroes endowed with purpose and chosen by the gods...but the origin stories are the best. Great epics cycling through the reason for our existence….have you ever seen a dragon?" she babbled, eyes alight with excitement.

"No," he stated simply, eyes narrowed in annoyance, "and I do not waste my time with flights of fancy."

"Please," she snorted, "you weren't born a full grown Templar were you? For your mother's sake I hope not. Do try to think back to a time where you weren't a joyless prig. There must be _one_ story you hold close to your heart."

"The only tale I hold close to my heart is the Chant of Light," he said primly, "for it is the only one that matters."

"Anders was wrong," she sighed in disappointment, "we don't need to find you a girl, we need to find you a _personality_."

"As if that…that…lothario has any insight to what I am lacking," he sputtered in protest and Thais cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement.

"Lothario? Are you jealous, Chantry boy?"

"No," he said quickly, "and stop calling me that."

"Why?" she purred leaning close to him so that her arms brushed his armored thighs, "it's what you are…or would you prefer 'Chantry Man'? Are you all grown up, Cullen?"

"Stop that this instance!" he demanded, cheeks flaming crimson, his back arching far away from her. Thais laughed and returned to her former position.

"Maker, that was easy," she giggled, "I wonder…does the Chantry know just how tightly wound they have you boys?"

"Does the circle know just how free their charges are with their affections?" he countered, cheeks still tinged with an endearing blush.

"We aren't 'free,'" she said with a shrug, "everything in that tower costs something…even affection."

"And what did it cost Anders to grope at you in such a debased fashion?" Cullen asked pointedly.

"Answers were the currency of the moment," she said with a smirk and watched in amusement as blanched in disapproval.

"I stand by my statement," he said tightly, returning his attention once more to rowing the small boat in an efficient and timely manner.

"And I stand by mine," she said smugly, "the world and us mages would be better off if the whole lot of you got a good and proper jollying every now and then."

"Well, we will all have to live with your disappointment, apprentice Amell, as the Chantry is not in the habit of acceding to the wishes of blood mages," he spat, anger overtaking him at her pertinence. Thais felt her grin fall from her face and rearrange in a deadly snarl.

"I'm not a blood mage," she growled.

"So says you," he said mockingly, "The problem with words is that they mean very little. I can say I'm a chicken all I want doesn't make it true."

"What happened back there was an accident," she said darkly, "a horrifying, deadly, and soul shattering accident nothing more."

"An accident that will bring about a discipline that should have been imparted on you months before," he said grimly. "When we return to the tower you will be made tranquil and I can at last see justice done for the maiming of a good man."

Thais screamed and jumped to her feet, hands weaving a tangled dance of magic and the lake suddenly froze in place all around them. Cullen's hands flew away from the oars as they jammed into place and he felt his shoulders protest at the sudden lurch.

"You have no _idea_ what those words even mean," she cried, scrambling across the boat to hover inches from his face. "You are either as depraved and sadistic as that monster or you are a blind, naïve idiot to not see the degradation right in front of you."

"Apprentice Amell," he warned lowly, "cease this display of power immediately."

"I wonder," she asked raising a hand to rest on his chest plate, nails scratching harshly against the metal, "is your heart as black as his?"

"Thais, this is my last warning," he cried, hand coming hard to clasp about her wrist.

"Tell me, _Chantry Boy_," she sneered, "do you steal into dark corners and watch the pretty girls."

"Thais!"

"Do you make them cry?" she screamed, the skin of her hand heating until it made his armor glow red beneath her finger, "Do you take what you want and leave them broken like your friend Sir Edmund. Tell me, Cullen! How many have you taken?!"

"Enough!" Cullen cried before he chanted a phrase in ancient Tevinter and Thais felt the air get sucked from her lungs and she collapsed into a shaking pile on the floor of the boat. The ice around them shattered with a crack and the vessel began to sway gently with the renewed tide of the lake's waters. Gasping for air she stared up at him in disbelief, shocked that he had cleansed her so thoroughly. He was much too young to have executed the maneuver with such and grace and effortlessness. Cullen in turn stared down at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.

"I've never cleansed someone before," he whispered in awe, fear edging his eyes.

"Edmund is _not_ a good man," she panted weakly, voice hollow and empty of her previous anger. Cullen tightened his hands in frustration and made to reply but stopped abruptly when he realized he still gripped her delicate wrist in his palm. Black scorch marks trailed across his armor from where she had touched him, straight over his heart, and the metal puckered and dimpled from the effects of the heat. Thais snatched her hand away and crawled to the other side of the boat, hugging her knees tightly to her chest.

"What was that about, Thais?" he asked softly, unsure as to whether he was referring to her actions or the lunacy she screamed in his face.

"It is not yours to know," she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes, "save this: If affection is used as trade in Kinloch hold, then as with most currency it can easily be stolen."

Cullen blanched at her words and shook his head, unwilling to believe the tale she had spun. Though she had not outright said it, he could not ignore the meaning of her cryptic remark and he wished fervently for her to lying.

"Edmund is not like that" he argued, "I have known him since we were boys playing at war with wooden swords. He is a good-" Thais glared at him warning before he cleared his throat and altered his wording "-Templar. He's is a good templar."

"Monsters are but men evolved," she stated numbly, parroting his earlier dogma back to him. Cullen had no reply to give her and gently sat down, hands slowly rising to grasp the oars. Time stretched around them as neither made to move or speak. A quiet breeze stole through the space between them, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle and algae, a pungent and displeasing odor. Cullen could not help but study her as she gazed into the distance, eyes focused on the forgotten horizon and the tower that loomed small and portentously on the horizon. It was as if she was seeing things so far gone in the past he would never hope to reach them. A tear slid down her cheek and she cursed low, so softly that he almost did not hear it, but the regret in that one syllable passed through him and made him shudder. Sighing in defeat he began to row once more, the boat slicing through the water with a gentle sigh.

"_The Lady of Winter_," he said at length, voice hesitant and embarrassed. Thais glanced at him confusion and he cleared his throat, speaking louder so as to explain. "My favorite tale…_The Lady of Winter_…I…have a weakness for damsels in distress."

"How very chivalrous of you," Thais replied quietly, though no trace of mocking lit her tongue.

"Have you heard it?" he asked lightly. And Thais smiled, the barest flicker of amusement in her features.

"Many times…but I am tired and could use a bedtime story."

Cullen coughed to hide his grin before straightening his shoulders and setting an easy rhythm of the oars.

"'In a time before dragons…'"he began, the gentle splashing of water upon wood the only accompaniment to his tale.

~oOo~

The crow flew overhead, wings spread as it cut through the night air like a blade. The scent of death, and magic, and sky clung to its tattered feathers, and it navigated through it's one remaining eye, the other having been scared over in a most hideous way.

As it approached its destination, an out cropping of ruins that lay deep in an unnamed forest, it began to caw a warning of its approach. As the crumbling stone came into view it began to descend, sinew and muscle snapping as it changed shape. Knees rejointed and feathers fell to the ground like ashes as mottled skin took their place.

Ismae touched down lightly on the ground, her back popping into alignment with a sickly crunch. Nodding a greeting to the two mages stationed at the entrance to underground temple and quickly hurried over the moss covered stones. She silently made her way through the twisting labyrinth before entering a massive room eyes seeking out her mistress. Joy radiated through her veins when she spied the woman holding court over her followers: twenty mages kneeling at her feet in adoration. Ismae ran to join them, her injuries screaming at her with every movement.

"My child," her mistress said musically, voice echoing with the weight of centuries, "what has happened to you?"

"It is true," Ismae breathed, ignoring Maherrette's concern, "it is as you foretold. I have found her…the daughter of the blood who will lead you to your glory."

Maharette smiled down at her, golden eyes flashing in thanks. Her lavender kissed skin glowed in pleasure and an unseen wind ruffled the hundreds of tiny braids that had been plaited into her snow white hair.

"Many innumerable thanks, my child," she murmured lovingly, "though it pains me to know you suffered so. You are powerful indeed to have survived what I can only assume to be a Rending. As are all my faithful." A chorus of adoration rose from the assembled and Ismae preened under her mistress' praise. "Now, tell me of this daughter and where I shall find her."

"Her name is Thais Amell," the old woman began.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: "Dovlin and Odessa" is a reference to the tale of Tristan and Isolde, and Lughnassadah is a Gaelic word pronounced Luna-say. I figured if I was referencing a tale about Ireland I may as well use a Celtic word for the "language" it came from in the DA verse. **

"_And so in a time before dragons the lady of winter found summer in her prince's kiss,"_ Thais said wistfully, her eyes two pools of amethyst flashing at him with that trademark blend of frivolity and mischief. Cullen smiled and placed his hand upon her cheek, thumb brushing over the trio of freckles that marked the space below her eye…wait. No. Not Thais. He was not on a small fishing boat and Thais was not here on the cold stones beside him. Cullen moaned in agony and scrambled away from the creature wearing that beguiling face.

"You are not her, you are not her, you are not her," he babbled shaking his head and crawling away. He was shamed that he had been so taken in, that memories of a painful and thrilling time had clouded his mind and let him believe the lie for even a few stolen seconds.

Sadistic laughter followed his progress and he collapsed under the weight of the sound, every one of his injuries protesting at his willingness to keep fighting back. Cullen ground his teeth and pounded his fist against the floor, shockwaves of pain and clarity radiating up his arm.

"Oh but I could be," the demon taunted him, "I could be her in every way. Her voice, her touch, her scent…her _taste_."

"You will never get close enough to try," he growled, refusing to glance over his shoulder at the torment that awaited him.

"It's not I who needs to get close, but you," the demon said sweetly, gliding sinfully across the floor until she stood before him. His vision swam as her delicate cloven foot trailed along his chest and came to rest beneath his chin, exerting just enough pressure to have him raise his head, forcing him to gaze upon her. "And you _will_ get close to me," she whispered temptingly, "I have never lost a conquest." He made to protest but choked when she flexed her leg, kicking him across the floor. "She is all over you, Cullen," she cried, voice practically dripping with forbidden pleasure, "your desire for her swirls from you and I can feel it in my bones. Such sweet idolatry you have made of her memory and you worship her above your precious Maker. She has already broken you, Cullen, and that is why you _will_ come to me, sweet boy. Just as you came to her." 

"You are not her," he sobbed, curling in on himself as he sought to out run a tale that had no happy ending…Thais would have approved…she always enjoyed the tragedies.

~oOo~

"You're such a liar!" Thais cried in amused horror.

"I am a templar, I do not lie," Cullen replied primly, though the shadow of a grin threatened at his lips.

"That very statement proves my point," she said dryly, "and you very well know that is not how '_Ðovlin and Odessa'_ ends."

"Perhaps I am referencing a different translation, one that you have not read," Cullen argued, trying to hold on to his detachment. Dawn was creeping over the horizon, shards of light coming to rest upon the waters, setting the surface ablaze with a fiery reflection. The two had passed the evening trading tales of courtly love, battles lost, and creatures slain. Cullen had been surprised at her fervor for such a thing, and somewhere in the dark and time-suspended moments of the night he had gotten swept up in the steady rhythm of her voice, tones dulcet and hypnotic as she flawlessly recited sweeping epics from memory. He had attempted to return the favor in kind, but he lacked her showmanship and often thought he sounded quite the idiot. To her credit Thais said not a word of his bumbling theatrics, simply smiling as he recounted stories from his youth. Something about her came alive when a tale was being spun out before her, and her eyes sparkled like precious gems during every climax, her features eager and anticipatory despite having heard them all before. It had disarmed him, and for a few hours he had forgotten she was a blood mage and his prisoner.

"I have read _every_ translation, including the original Lughnassadah, I can tell you with absolute certainty that Odessa and Dovlin do _not_ take the fishing boat down the river and live out their days in the countryside!" Thais insisted, a smug sort of smile splitting her face. Cullen stared at her in wonder.

"You can read Lughnassadah?" he asked skeptically, "I believe it is my turn to cry 'liar.'"

"Of course I can read it, I can speak it too," she said with a roll of her eyes, "it's not as if I've spent the last seventeen years locked in a tower with nothing but books for company."

At the mention of the tower Cullen felt his grin fall from his lips and his eyes sought out the structure of their volition. Thais watched him in curiosity before following his gaze and felt the spell of the night shatter around her. The structure loomed large and imposing, closer than even an hour previous. It was silhouetted black from the rising sun's glare, looking every inch the prison she knew it to be. Sighing in defeat Thais turned back to face the templar (for that is what he was; no longer just Cullen, a companion whispering bedtime stories in the dark, but her jailer and oppressor) and shrugged sadly.

"Dovlin lies cold on the ground with Odessa kneeling in his blood mourning him, for he gave his life for a vow sworn before her…that is how the story ends, Chantry Boy. In reality. It has a way of rushing back, doesn't it?" she said softly. Cullen had no reply to give her but cowardly hid his gaze from her and once more set his mind upon rowing them to shore. The sound of wood slicing through water was the only sound that came between them.

As the minutes ticked by and dawn gave way to morning Cullen tried to find the former loathing for the woman he had once bore. She was a blood mage, a danger, she had nearly killed his friend...though if her words were to be believed he could not help but wonder if Edmund had deserved such a fate. No! He mustn't think that way; there could be no bending in his duty. Even if Sir Edmund had committed so vile a deed, it did not discount her most current crime, and he was oath sworn to see her punished for toying with forces beyond her control. But he could not help but wonder what would happen to her if she was made tranquil. Would the sun brand upon her brow keep her from finding such love and joy in stories, or would that, along with her magic, be taken from her?

Wishing fiercely for night to fall once more and time to suspend around them, Cullen continued their journey, angling the boat southwards. He could not make landfall at the Circle directly, only Chantry sanctioned vessels were allowed to dock at Kinloch hold, and any boat not bearing the appropriate seal would be treated as hostile and suspect. The Templars had seen too many uprising that started from outside the tower's walls to take chances, and so Cullen would have to dock near the spoiled princess and take the Circle's official ferry to the tower proper. As they neared the coastline a cacophony of steel on steel and feral screams wafted across the lake and the two glanced about in confusion.

"What in the Void is that?" Thais murmured, eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the source of the uproar. Cullen frowned as he rowed closer to the shore, his eyes making out a large group of figures fighting.

"Bar room brawl, perhaps?" he ventured, "The Princess is not known for having the most upscale clientele."

"That's quite the drunken spat if that's the case," Thais replied dryly as they drew nearer, "Maker, what happened to that man's face? Tall dark and nasty looking if I ever saw…wait…it can't be…is that?"

"Darkspawn?" Cullen breathed, his lungs seizing in a panic. The two watched in a dumbstruck horror as the figures that dotted the shore came into sharp relief. Five of the creatures battled against a small contingent of peasants, their actions a madness laced symphony of destruction and death. The humans, to their credit, tried desperately to fight back against the monsters, crude clubs and makeshift weapons clasped tightly in their hands. But the odds were not in the favor and Thais choked as an elderly man was cut in two by a hunched and vicious looking darkspawn. Cullen growled in anger and began rowing with renewed determination.

"What are you doing?" Thais screamed at him, "Have you lost your mind? Go the _other _way!"

"Those people are in danger," Cullen stated grimly, muscles strained against the oars, "I will not leave them to be slaughtered."

"And your brilliant plan is to, what? Get slaughtered in their place? Fine idea, Chantry Boy, really, top marks all around."

As the boat thumped against the shore, Cullen vaulted out of the vessel, long sword already flashing bright and deadly in his hands. Thais gaped after him in frustration and shock, shrieking like a tea kettle as he leapt into the fray. The darkspawn never saw him coming and in a few short moves one of the creatures lay dead at his feet, black and toxic blood oozing from its chest.

"Run! All of you! Get to safety!" the templar cried, hacking away at a new enemy. The peasants were only too eager to obey and Thais watched them scramble up the hill and leave Cullen alone with the danger. The darkspawn quickly regrouped and rounded on this new threat, eyes flashing black and murderous in the morning sun. Almost as if given a command, the four remaining creatures launched themselves at the man, growls made of nightmares rising from their throats. Cullen fought valiantly against their efforts, but Thais knew it would not be enough; they were too numerous and he was too untested. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes coming to rest on the tower that crawled towards the sky, a reminder of horror awaited her before hesitantly glancing back at the hill the peasants had scrambled over only moments before. It was so tempting…to scurry past the fracas before her and escape into the world beyond, leaving Cullen to his grisly fate and no one the wiser as to what she had done. Even if she was caught, there would be no accusation of blood magic hanging around her neck like a noose; she would merely be an apostate, one who had such potential in the healing arts that she would be treated with leniency.

Thais could feel herself teetering on a precipice and before she knew it she was daintily stepping out of the boat, hands rising before her as she took a deep and steadying breath.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered before closing her eyes and taking the plunge. Her feet sprayed sand into the air as she kicked into motion, lips muttering a tangle of words as magic crackled around her.

The darkspawn didn't even turn as she barreled into it, tackling the foul thing to the ground with a bone jarring thud. She quickly leapt to her feet and thrust her palms forward, expecting a debilitating bolt of lightning to burst forth, only to have useless pink sparks sputter weakly from her fingers.

"Oh shit," she sighed before being knocked back, her feet stumbling as she struggled to find balance. It was no use and she careened straight into Cullen, forcing him to give ground against the two darkspawn he had engaged.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, shoving her behind him in a futile effort to protect her.

"Right now? I'm kicking myself for not being a sensible mage and running away," she grumbled as she knelt to inscribe a glyph on the dew soaked grass below them. Just as the creatures swarmed the pair the spell was keyed and the darkspawn were thrown back in a power tingly rush, landing dazed a good ten feet away from them. "Come on," Thais cried, grasping Cullen's had in hers and dragging them to the boat.

"But-"

"No buts," she snapped, racing across the ground, "you saved the poor little villagers and killed a big scary monster, you're a hero out of legend, Cullen, now get in the damn boat!" She under scored her point by shoving the man into the vessel, causing him to land in a stunned and graceless heap upon its floor. Behind her she could hear the darkspawn regaining their senses, inhuman cries of anger clawing upwards from their throats. Clenching her teeth she set her heels into the sand and pushed the boat into the tide, scrambling over the side once it caught the motion of the current. Splashes echoed behind her and she quickly bolted up right, hands reaching towards the heavens in supplication.

"This better fucking work," she ground out before clapping her palms together and thrusting them forward. She nearly did a jig when the water rose up beneath them and launched them speedily into deeper waters. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the darkspawn rage and scream on the shore, angry at having lost their quarry. She blew them a kiss before collapsing in an exhausted heap and stared up breathlessly at the crisp blue sky.

"You saved me," Cullen muttered in wonder as he stiffly settled onto one of the boat's benches.

"I'm just as shocked as you are, Chantry Boy," she laughed, the fading adrenaline making her giddy.

"I also cannot help but notice that we are being pushed _away_ from the tower," he continued, voice slightly less friendly. Thais tilted her head backwards and watched as Kinloch Hold grew tiny on the horizon. Turning her gaze back to him she had the good grace to blush and grin sheepishly.

"Oops?" she offered half heartedly.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh dear god I am so sorry it took so long. I have hit a major case of writers block. This is the THIRD rewrite of this chapter…ugh. Apologies. Thanks to everyone who has faved/followed/review. Keep 'em coming, I write all this stuff for you guys after all!**

Flint struck stone, rained down upon dried brush and leaves and flared brightly before sputtering out into a blue wisp of smoke. Cullen grunted in frustration and tried to light the kindling once more. When after three additional attempts and not a single lick of flame he roared and threw the bits of rock into the darkness.

"You know, if you need some help all you have to do is ask," Thais said wryly as she idly traced patterns in the mulchy earth, one knee drawn tight to her chest, the other resting lightly on the ground, her robes pooling gently around her.

"I've had my fill of your 'help' thank you very much," Cullen said stiffly as he rose to seek out the flint he had just discarded, hands roaming over the moss covered ground.

"Oh I'm sorry," she muttered, rolling her eyes "I didn't realize having beasties nibble on your entrails was a hobby for you. Dearest apologies."

After Thais' magic had blown them into the safety of the waters, the templar had been dismayed to discover that the current would not let up nor slow its passage, despite the mage's attempts to end the spell. In the end the swift and steady burst of power had taken them all the way across Lake Callenhad and deposited them not ten miles away from the village of Andralia. Thais had offered half hearted apologies for her magic once again going awry, but the lack of dedication in her voice had done nothing but irritate him. Unwilling to spend one more minute in that accursed boat he had spent the remaining hours of daylight tracing the southern coastline of the lake, quietly bemoaning his fate the whole while. To her credit Thais protested not a bit, but held the grueling pace he had set with dignity and grace. When darkness at last fell and the air grew chill he had halted their journey and sought out a suitable site to make camp for the evening. And so he had drug her through the tree line that lay on the other side of the dusty road and began the business of settling down for the night.

At her snarky words Cullen sighed and stopped in his search tilting his head back in frustration. He quickly crossed to her, crouched by her side and hesitantly placed his hand upon her shoulder, earning him a confused and wary glance thrown his way.

"Look," he began, tongue fumbling for words, "it's not as if I'm not…grateful for you saving me. Truly…I rather like my heart where it is, still beating in my chest and all…but it does not excuse the fact that your little spell sent us all the way back to Andralia. I _have_ to return you to the circle, Thais, there is no getting around that."

"And you were going to accomplish that how exactly?" she asked, "Row circles in the water until the darkspawn gave up? Time and distance between us and those _things_ happens to fall on the good idea end of the spectrum in my opinion."

"Time and distance, indeed," Cullen muttered, rising to his feet, "it will take us at least three weeks to navigate our way back."

"Three weeks? That's fantastic!" Thais cried sitting up straighter at the news.

"You and I have very different ideas about the definition of that word," Cullen grumbled as he glanced around, eyes seeking out the elusive lump of flint.

"Hey, you may be in a hurry to get back to that bloody tower, but I'm not. You'll get your slap on the back and 'good jobs' all around, meanwhile I'll be learning the joys of speaking without inflection and learning to keep the stock room in oh so tidy order."

"I cannot change the law, Thais," Cullen said softly, "you are an unharrowed mage who succumbed to blood magic…there is no gray area here."

"That's a lark," she snorted, eyes rolling, "every inch of that accursed place is 'grey area.' Oh just stop looking, would you? Here." And with that she pointed her palm at the pile of kindling and an instant later an ethereal specter of smoke twisted towards the sky followed instantly by flames licking their way towards the heavens. "Pretty nifty, eh?" she asked smugly, eyebrow arched in triumph.

"Yes, 'nifty'," he said dryly, dropping into a crouch so as to feed logs into the blaze, "what do you mean every inch of the tower is grey area?"

"Look, Chantry Boy, I know you're new to the job and all, but you'd have to be blind or touched in the head not to notice all the 'in-between' that happens there."

"I fail to see any such thing," he snapped, "the circle operates on very clear, very black and white rules of conduct. If it didn't anarchy would rule."

"And the favors bestowed on pet mages from your fellow templars? What archaic part of Chantry law is that?" Thais countered, eyebrow raised in triumph.

"That is an issue of obedience, not order," he argued, settling stiffly to the ground, eyes focused on the cheery blaze.

"And yet Gregoir allows it to continue unchecked…strange…" she said mockingly. "And what of Ander's penchant for escape? He should have been made tranquil twenty times over by now, but Irving has managed to convince your order that he is a healer of which there is no equal and should be treated with leniency. Look around Cullen, every aspect of life in that horrid circle is one big, giant, shade of grey."

"You're lying," Cullen coughed out, needing to believe the words.

"Oh I lie plenty, Chantry boy," Thais said cheekily, "it's one of the few amusements afforded me, but I'm not lying about this. Right and wrong don't exist in that tower. Just worse or better than what happened the day before. Circle is quite the fitting name….all of us, templars, mages…we all just run the wheel of moral ambiguity, never quite able to get ahead, but for all we know those in front of us are just really far behind."

"That's a rather bleak way of looking at it," Cullen said in soft condemnation.

"Why do you think I love stories so much?" she replied with a shrug before rolling onto her back and staring up at the night sky. She let out a quiet chuckle and shook her head, lips curling into a delighted grin. "I shall have to write one about you and your fool's errand of a battle against the dark spawn. I shall call it _'Cullen: the templar who knew no fear…and had no brains.'_ And school children will learn it at their teacher's knee."

"Most people would describe my actions as selfless and brave," Cullen said pointedly, though his lips twitched in amusement at the fictitious title.

"I never said it wasn't brave," Thais said cheerfully, rolling onto her stomach to regard him, "but I've often found that bravery and stupidity are very enthusiastic bed fellows."

"And yet you ran from safety to aid a templar…quite brave of you."

"And quite stupid," Thais chuckled, "as I said…bedfellows."

"Why did you save me?" Cullen asked softly, "I still cannot believe you didn't take the chance to flee when you could."

"What, I wonder, would have been the point?" she replied dismissively, "you lot have my phylactery. Even if you had met your bloody and ballad-inducing end back there, the templars would still have tracked me down and I'd be held accountable for running. And, if by some strange miracle, you _had_ survived, you would have taken tales of blood magic back to Gregoir's ears and my trial would be over before it began. This way I get to at least argue my side of things before injustice comes crashing down on me."

"You weren't tempted at all?" he prodded, trying to understand.

"Of course I was tempted," she snorted, "to be free, even for a short time? To experience the world as an inhabitant and not a prisoner…to be _alone_? Blessedly, finally, alone? Very alluring."

"You wish to be alone?" Cullen asked in disbelief, hands idly throwing twigs and leaves into the fire.

"I'm _never_ alone, Chantry boy," Thais said wistfully, "every twitch of my pretty little fingers is watched and measured…and for all I know catalogued in some twice damned registry of mages. It's exhausting to be under all that dour, doom and gloom scrutiny…it would be so relaxing to be ignored for once."

"I don't understand that," he said after a time, head shaking, "loneliness is something one should never aspire to."

"Oooh…do I detect a brooding and attractive emotional scar in our fair templar?" Thais teased, scrambling to her hands and knees. "Do tell."

"You can be quite cruel, you know that?" Cullen snapped, eyes blazing in hurt and anger. Thais rocked back on her haunches, stunned by the venom in his words. "You act as though you alone have suffered emotional wounds and slights and everyone else could never understand your personal tragedy and therefore could never have their own."

"That's not-"

"So yes," he continued, refusing to let her get any bit of an argument out, "perhaps I do have a bit of wishing for something different, but I find myself disinclined to discuss it with you only to be mocked and dismissed with a roll of your eyes."

Thais blushed in shame and flicked her gaze away from him. A log crackled and spit sparks into the darkness, the only sound that came between them. The night air seemed to take on a different weight then, almost sharp and immediate, and Thais squirmed beneath its presence. Cullen once more returned his attention to the fire before him, the flickering shadows playing along the planes of his face, bringing each hollow and graceful line into stark relief. There was a tension in his jaw, stubble almost translucent in the low light, and she could see a muscle twitch along his cheek as he clenched his mouth closed.

"I'm sorry," she offered awkwardly when she could no longer stand the tension, "I suppose I deserved that. But to my credit, it's hard to think of you as more than an emotionless soldier of the chantry when every other word out of your mouth is dripping with brainwashed dogma."

"I have spent my life training to be a weapon for my faith, Thais," he replied, voice still edged with a quiet rage, "it is who I am."

"Who you are, or what they made you?"she countered quietly. Cullen started at her words and opened his mouth to defend the institution that had raised him but the utter and naked sincerity in her voice had such a speech dying still born on his tongue. "Here," she stated suddenly, shaking off her melancholy with a bright smile as she began to crawl across the space that separated them, "I'll make a bargain with you. I'll do my best to view you as a whole person, if you'll do me the same."

"Are you saying that until this point I haven't?" he inquired, offended at the notion. Thais gave him a pointed look that conveyed every bit of her exasperation at his statement before clearing her throat and settling down beside him.

"Need I remind you of the number of times you've tossed about the words 'blood magic' since we've met? I've been keeping a tally."

"You have not!" Cullen cried in horror, eyes wide.

"Oh but I have," she said batting her eyes.

"Where? I don't see any quill and parchment so I can only assume this tally, much like your tales, is fictitious."

"These robes are quite spacious, Chantry boy, easily able to hide a great many things if you know how to place them just so," she purred wickedly, " wanna take a peek?"

"Why do you that?" Cullen coughed, inching away from her and eyes glancing about and anything and everything that wasn't her.

"Do what?" she asked innocently, violet eyes wide in the shadowed darkness.

"Slip innuendo into every conversation," he insisted, voice embarrassed and unsure.

"Are you offended by it?" she asked in curiosity, "Most men enjoy it."

"It is not a matter of offended," he awkwardly rushed to explain, "it's just that I'm…uncomfortable with you plying your wiles on me. I am not used to such a thing."

"How is that possible?" she laughed in disbelief, "I mean…you're fit enough, all those lovely templar trained muscles…surely you've been flirted with before, Chantry Boy, haven't you?"

"Not as such…no," he muttered in embarrassment, shifting uncomfortably.

"Well that needs to be rectified immediately," Thais insisted, a bizarre sort of horror flashing through her eyes.

"I rather think it doesn't" Cullen protested, voice firm.

"No, I refuse to let you go through life blushing every color of the sunset every time a pretty girl bats her lashes at you."

"And what would the point be?" he demanded, "We both know that you only tease me so as to see me squirm…there is no true desire or emotion behind it…it is merely a game to you."

"Which means you have nothing to fear from me," she countered logically before settling on her knees, hands reaching out to maneuver him into a mirror of her position. When she was at last satisfied with his position, stiff and wary though it was, she gently placed her hands upon his armored belly and began to slowly walk her fingertips up his chest. "Now…the first thing you need to learn is to separate any notion of courtly love from such conversations. The two are not mutually exclusive."

"You do not wish to love those you seduce?" Cullen asked in disbelief. Thais sighed and dropped her hands.

"No. I'm already chained to the Chantry for the rest of my life, why on earth would I bind myself another jailer? And that's what love is…caring for someone so much that you put your own freedom below theirs. I never want to feel that."

"I don't think that's how it would be at all," he argued, seeking to distract her.

"Says the virgin, chaste little templar," Thais replied dryly, hands returning once more to his chest "now stop interrupting. The trick is to be blatant and subtle all at the same time. A touch here, a double-entendre there…you want to infuse the air with the possibility of something wicked. It's a complicated talent…quite like playing the harp. You just gotta find which string to 'pluck' to elicit the note you crave." Her teasing trail of fingers ended just at the pulse point of his throat, and Cullen swallowed hard beneath the fluttering brush of skin on skin. "I just have to figure out what tune makes their body sing," she whispered sinfully, eyes hooded and dangerous. For the briefest moment something dangerous and scorching lit the air between them, and everything around them became suspended save their breath, ragged and trembling. Cullen briefly wondered how she had gotten so close and why he had not put a stop to this little "lesson" long ago.

The spell was shattered when Thais let out a tinkling laugh and leaned away from him, violet eyes pleased and bright in the flickering glare of the fire.

"Not bad for a novice," she said in smug approval, "you even forgot to blush there towards the end. There's hope for you yet, Chantry boy."

"You should get some rest," he said hurriedly, clearing his throat bouncing to his feet, "we have quite a bit of ground to cover tomorrow." Her laughter chased him about their camp as he set himself on the few quick tasks of settling in for the night. When at last the fire was banked to a safe, yet warm, level the pair stretched out on the soft earth, and the templar quickly turned his back to the mage, unwilling to look at her for fear of blushing.

"Sweet dreams, Cullen," she taunted musically, voice floating towards him on the midnight breeze.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sweet dreams indeed," the demon taunted, "that memory was hard to find, my sweet boy, but such a reward for all the digging. Does she know, I wonder, that you dreamt of her flesh that night?"

Cullen said nothing but stared through the creature that taunted him. He had quickly learned that no amount of begging or threats would deter her from her sadistic course and so he had given up on speech altogether. His silence was beginning to irritate the demon and she frowned in displeasure. She backhanded him with a flick of her wrist but he uttered not a sound and simply craned his head back to its former position. He was propped against the wall, legs splayed out in front of him, replaying memories of amethyst eyes, ethereal laughter, and blood kissed skin over and over in his mind as if they were talisman's to prey over. He would never admit it out loud, but the times in which the demon chose to show her true face were the easiest. It kept him rooted in this time and place and not in a life lived briefly free of rules and castes. It was when the creature shifted, taking on the features of Thais that he felt himself begin to crumble, aching to spill his secrets to the one person who shared them. He had held them close for so long, unable to speak a word of them to anyone for fear of what would come crashing down on both their heads…but sitting here, broken and bleeding he yearned to give the memories the weight and breath of speech. He was no longer certain that he would come out of this whole, let alone alive. Too much time had passed and the idea that help was coming seemed a distant hope that slipped farther and farther away with every minute. And really, if he was going to die, did he want the memory of the only woman he had ever loved to vanish alongside him…or did he wish for someone, anyone, even a foul creature such as the one before him, to know how much he regretted and how he wished to take back those final moments in that unnamed forest and take everything Thais had offered him?

"You force my hand, templar," the demon huffed, voice hard and biting as she drew herself up. "Do not say that I did not offer you another way." He nearly whimpered when the creature shifted once more to that of his beloved, but instead of pristine robes and freshly washed hair, she appeared to him just as she had that night beside the fire…garments wrinkled and torn, hair mussed with twigs and the scent of wood smoke clinging to her luminous skin.

"Did you dream of me Cullen?" she asked wryly. When he said nothing she settled near him and gently laid her head in his lap, scarlet hair fanning out in a seductive wave over his legs. She gazed up at him, eyes blinking and innocent. "Tell me a story, Cullen," she asked softly. He shook his head fiercely, tears stinging his eyes. Maker but was he tempted…logically he knew that it was not her, but it was such a good facsimile and he was so tired. Perhaps he could pretend, just for this, and acquiesce… The words crowded at his tongue and he swallowed them down, trying to hold on to his fraying sense of control.

"Tell me _our_ story," she whispered once more and that one, stressed syllable filled with such a mixture of emotions felled him and all sense of faith, vows, and reality slipped away. He smiled sadly and raised a hand to gently stroke her hair, the sensation a homecoming all its own.

"Very well," he murmured, "Yes, I dreamed of you…but you were dreaming of someone else that night…"

~oOo~

Thais wandered aimlessly through the fade, disjointed images melting long the edges of her subconscious like water. Other mages had been frightened of the dreamscape, too afraid of the temptations and demons that called this valley home, so much so that they had taken tinctures to sleep without dreaming…but not Thais. She adored this world that both was and wasn't real. It was the only place she could live out all the tales she loved so dearly, inserting herself into the role of ingénue, hero, and villain with fluidity. She was secure enough in her strength of will that she never feared the creatures that in habited this land and the dark promises they offered.

"My child," a voice echoed around her, "my dearest child." Thais frowned and sought out the source of the sound. It was a tolling voice, the weight of power and centuries rich and sticky in every tone. When at last her eyes came to rest upon the bearer she stiffened, recognizing immediately the presence of another mage in the dream.

"Who are you?" she demanded, gaze raking over lavender kissed skin and hundreds of snow white braids that twined and twisted atop her head in an ethereal crown.

"I am Maharette," the woman replied sweetly, gliding towards her in a gown of sheer white lace, a simple sea foam tinted sheath covering her form underneath.

"You're a dream walker," Thais stated simply, the implied question more of a courtesy than anything else.

"Among other things, yes."

"You're the one who stole Ismae from me," Thais accused, leery at this woman's presence.

"Ismae stole herself, my child. She awoke to her true life and you can not begrudge her the freedom she has achieved."

"Has achieved? She's alive then?" When Maharette nodded Thais almost collapsed in relief, thankful that her mentor, despite her recent actions, still drew breath. "Thank the Maker. I was certain I had killed her when I-"

"When you let your power free," the woman finished for her, smiling serenely at the words, "Your rending was quite powerful, my daughter. I am awed that you have achieved such talents at so young an age."

"Talents? _Talents?!_ Are you insane? I flayed people alive! That isn't a talent, that is a curse," Thais cried, horrified that this woman would frame so horrible an event as a blessing.

"I name it for what it is," Maharette continued calmly as she raised a hand to rest upon Thais' chest, "I can feel it in you…spider webbing out beneath your flesh. It is wild and untamed, you have denied it for so long and it yearns to be set free. Why do you repress so great a gift, my daughter?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Thais asked breathlessly, shaking beneath the elder woman's touch. She could feel the other mage's power probing her center, seeking out her magic. It was an exhilarating sensation, and she swore she could taste strawberries on the back of her tongue, masking some other bitter foul taste. Thais was at once thrilled and horrified; there was something off about this woman's power, something tainted though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Because it is what you are," Maharette answered, removing her hand from Thais' flesh. The younger mage nearly staggered from the loss, both aching and grateful to be free. "I have long prophesized your arrival, Thais. The child who bears a mirror of my gift. A daughter of the blood who would help me lead our kind to a brave new world." At the mention of blood Thais stumbled away in horror and fiercely shook her head.

"No. No. Nononono," she babbled, "I am _not _a blood mage! How many times do I have to say it before you, Chantry Boy, the whole world understands this?"

"You are what you have always meant to be, Thais," Maharette said gravely, "do not deny your power or it will explode and destroy everything in its path, including you."

"Why do you even care? What am I to you?"

"You are the one who will help me set the mages free," the woman answered, voice fierce with determination.

"I'm all for throwing off the shackles of our oppression, but I'm not even harrowed yet!"

"The potential is there," Maharette countered, "the harrowing does not make you a mage, my daughter, it is but another chain the Chantry hangs about your neck. Your power does not depend on the title, nor do you gain wisdom for the trial. You _are_ a mage, Thais, never doubt it. Our oppressors merely thin our numbers with that barbaric rite, to incite fear and obedience in those they are supposed to protect."

"You're lying…the Harrowing is the final test, the final lesson-"

"It is but a dream, nothing but a dream and a demon and your freedom of choice. Do you see how they have lied to you? How they create fanciful tales to keep you compliant? We deserve so much more, my child. We mages have suffered tyranny at the hands of the Chantry for far too long. We deserve freedom and truth not prisons and lies. Can't you see that?"

"It's a pretty tale you spin, but I fail to see how one girl could make the difference."

"Join me, and together we will set your power free, and Thedas will tremble before us," Maharette said simply and Thais felt herself grow cold at her words.

"No, absolutely not," she protested, "the one and only time I let that magic out it left something so gruesome and terrible in its wake I'm not sure I'll ever recover from it. I never want to cause something like that ever again."

"It will be released, Thais," Maharette replied coldly, "it is its nature. It is _your_ nature. Your very blood is magic and you cannot rid yourself of it. Would it not be better to learn to control it than let it run wild and untamed?"

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Thais whispered, sounding small and frightened. "How do I know you're even telling me the truth? Some woman with _purple_ skin shows up in my dreams and tells me I have been chosen to save my fellow mages and that everything I've ever been taught is a lie. A bit much to take in and accept, if you ask me.

If you do not believe me, ask your traveling companion. Ask him about the harrowing and you will have your answer as to the veracity of my claims."

"How do you know about Cullen?" Thais breathed in wonder.

"My faithful have been tracking you for some time. We are aware of the templar and his affection for you."

"Affection?" Thais snorted, "There has to be another rogue mage and templar traveling across Thedas, because I can guarantee that Chantry Boy thinks of me only as a danger and annoyance."

"And yet he trembled at your touch this night. Even now he dreams of you, of your fingers on his flesh. Do you wish to see?" Maharette offered, hand rising to part the veils of the fade.

"No!" Thais choked, not quite believing the other woman's tale but unwilling to chance fate.

"That is your choice. But know that I am coming for you, my daughter. You cannot out run fate."

"Coming for me? Have we moved on to threats now?" Thais sputtered in outrage.

"If you refuse to see the truth of what you are, I will be forced to show you…it is your choice in what way you come to see yourself."

"And when shall I be expecting a visit?" Thais remarked sarcastically, though fear hummed through her veins.

"Sooner than you'd think, my daughter," Maharette said ominously as the edges of Thais' dream began to curl, images going blurry. Distantly she could hear foot falls crunching over leaves and it filled her with icy dread. "I would awaken now if you wish to save the templar, my daughter."

Maharette's words echoed in her skull as she was torn from the fade, eyes snapping open to find an unfamiliar male face looming over hers.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Love to all! I adore your reviews, keep 'em coming! And of course, many numerous thanks for beta extraordianre, KatDancer2 for "pickin' those nits"!**

Perhaps Thais wouldn't have reacted so strongly to a stranger looming over her while she slept if it had not been the exact same manner in which Sir Edmund had woken her those many months before. Even now, knowing that she was in the wild and not the tower, a very different sort of templar beside her on the ground, it was hard for her to separate that memory from reality. Any moment she expected Sir Edmund to crawl atop her, slide his thick and propping fingers beneath her robes and whisper insidious phrases in her ear. The man above her moved his mouth, and while a part of her knew that this was not her one-time tormentor, she swore his voice was Edmund's and the words an exact repeating.

_You know how to be a good mage, don't you?_

Thais screamed and backpedaled away from the man, intent on putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. Moments later her back jammed up against a pair of legs and she felt herself get hauled up by unknown hands. She thrashed in her captor's grips, screaming accusations at Edmund the whole time, swearing that she would do worse than blow him across the room this time if he so much as touched her.

"Thais!" a voice cried out, "Thais! Listen! It's not Edmund!" Somehow the words got through, hit a part of her brain that was not caught up the memory of an assault that still haunted her dreams and she grew suddenly and painfully silent. Once her head had cleared she glanced around and remembered the strange ordeal she had found herself in. The pleasant campfire had burned down to embers and grey ashes danced gently in the midnight breeze. Glancing across the space she found a beaten Cullen being restrained and guarded by a trio of mages, staffs gripped tightly in their hands. He sagged in relief when her gaze fell on him, grateful that she had snapped out of her madness and rejoined him in the crisis at hand. It was then that she realized he had been the one calling her name, bringing her back from the painful memory and she felt uncomfortable that his voice was now familiar enough to bring her back to herself.

"Well, now that that's over with we can get down to our purpose," the man who had awoken her stated primly, hands smoothing his robes before striding to stand before her. Thais sized him warily, taking in the gray speckled hair that lay close to his head, murky silver eyes set deep in sallow skin…the man looked as if he were already one foot in the grave so corpse like were his features. He swept a cold and unfeeling gaze over her form, and Thais braced for threats and violence, certain that whoever these people were, they meant her and Cullen harm. She was utterly shocked when after a tension filled moment the man dropped to the ground on bended knee, head bowed and a fist pressed tight to his chest.

"Thais Amell, I am Thane, dedicated follower of Maharette and your most loyal servant," he murmured, though he sounded less than pleased to be saying the words. If he had turned into a darkspawn and began to dance the Antivan Tango about the camp Thais would have been less surprised then she was at that moment. Mouth open wide in stupefaction she flicked her gaze to Cullen only to find his face a mirror of her own. Glancing back down at the man still prostrate before her she cleared her throat and tried to summon some sort of reply.

"Come again?"

Thane grunted in irritation as he rose to stand, hands flicking a motion at the two unknown people who held her captive. Thais sighed in relief as she was released and shot a quick, cursory glance behind her, eyes taking in two other mages in green feathered robes, their features exact copies of one another.

"Twins, eh?" she chirped, "How unfortunate for your mother. I wager she hated the day you two were taken to the circle."

"On the contrary," one said in a numb voice, "it was the best day of her life."

"Ouch," Thais muttered before turning her attention back to the situation at hand. "When Maharette said she was coming for me I was expecting such a thing to be some time in the future…how did you lot track me so fast?"

A crow cawed overhead and dove quickly through the overhang of trees before lighting upon the ground. Thais grimaced as the bird's bones began to pop and snap, turning her head away from the sight. She always hated watching a shift, it sickened her and not for the first time in her life she sent a silent prayer of thanks to Andraste that she had not been cursed with the gift.

"Shapeshifters," she murmured through clenched teeth, "So easy to track someone when you can fly and they can't. One might consider that cheating, you know."

"We take what edge we can, my dear," a familiar voice intone and Thais whipped her head back around, violet eyes already tearing up as she watched her former mentor glide towards her.

"Ismae," she breathed, "Oh thank Andraste and whatever other deity was listening. You're alive! And you're…." Thais' words trailed off when a sliver of moon light fell across the old woman's face, revealing the scared and twisted flesh that marred her left side. Flimsy bits of hair clung desperately to bare scalp and one milky white eye rolled uselessly in its socket. "Oh Maker…"

"It is alright, dear," Ismae said gently, "These scars are a mark of your power, your potential. I am a walking omen of what lies in wait for our enemies."

"You won't succeed," Cullen spat at them, his outrage finally boiling over to intolerable levels, "All you will succeed in doing is rallying the faithful to oppose you. The Chantry will be strengthened by your vile deeds and you will be brought low in your failure."

"Cullen," Thais said tightly, eyeing how those mages that held him tensed in anger at his words, "this _really_ isn't the time for a sermon."

"Maharette waits for you, dear. Come with us and unlock your potential," Ismae said fiercely, eyes glazed with devotion.

"And if I do? What then? Maharette wasn't exactly forthcoming with information when she so rudely interrupted my dreams."

"Thais!" Cullen cried out in anger," You can't seriously be considering this madness!"

"Cullen, I am begging you…shut up," She ground out.

"But-" He was silenced moments later with a crackle of electricity hitting him in the stomach, and Thais stifled a gasp at the display. He panted hard as he sought to regain his composure and murder flashed in his eyes as he stared at her hard across the space that divided them, though whether or not the emotion was directed at her or their captors she could not say.

"It is not for us to say," Ismae replied calmly, answering Thais' original query. "Maharette has need of you, dear. She foretold of your coming and now I have found you. Do you know what this means? Once you embrace your power the two of you will finally break the chains that bind all mages in slavery. We will finally be free, and it will all be because of you." It was then that Ismae reached deep into her robes and withdrew a weathered and leather bound tome, offering to Thais as if it were a holy relic.

"What is this?" Thais asked, frowning in confusion as her hands moved to take it. As soon as her finger tips brushed the worn leather she felt a jolt shudder through her body and a sense of rightness and clarity settle over her. It was as if she had been living life shrouded in a veil and suddenly the world was bright and clear around her. She gasped at the sudden shift in her awareness, tears pricking at her eyes out of a joy she could not name nor understand.

"It is all you are meant to be, dear," Ismae said softly, a smile pulling at her puckered and scarred skin in a most unappealing way. Thais turned the codex over in her hands, fingers tracing the golden script that cut across the cover. When she finally forced herself to read the words she sobbed, happiness melting away in to terror, and dropped the heavy tome to the ground.

"No!" she screamed, "Just stop it! All of you. I am so beyond tired of all of this. I'm not that person, I'm not that mage!"

"Stop fighting it child," Ismae soothed and Thais shoved her away, vision blurring through her tears. A part of her ached inside at having lost contact with the book, that sense of completion and rightness abandoned once her flesh no longer graced its cover. And yet she could not help but fight against what Ismae, Maharette, Cullen, the whole world seemed to be telling her. _Rites of Blood and Magic_ written in flowery golden script stared up at her from the earthen floor and Thais stumbled away from the tome as if it were a snake.

"I don't want to be a blood mage," Thais choked out between heaving sobs, chest rising and falling in a panic.

"And yet it is what you are," her mentor said gently, "it is what you were always meant to be. Do not be afraid. There is no shame in being born with a gift as great as this."

"Yes there is," Thais insisted.

"Why? Because the likes of him says there is?" Ismae countered, waving a hand at the bound templar. "Of course they would want to vilify the most powerful discipline of magic. It suits their needs quite perfectly…but there was a time, Thais, when the power you possess was highly coveted. Men and woman such as yourself were revered for the magics they wielded."

"And no doubt unleashed all manner of unholy hell upon the earth," Cullen grumbled, "Thais, do not listen to her, she is-"

"Silence you dog!" Ismae cried, turning on him and blasting him with a bolt of raw power. He arched in pain as the magic sizzled along his skin. Thais choked and made to go to him, but Ismae stopped her with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you see how they have twisted who you are, my dear? Even now you wish to go a templar's aid. Him! A man cut from the very same cloth as the one who very nearly raped you not five months ago."

"He is not Edmund, and you are hurting an innocent man!" Thais cried, "He is just doing his twice damned job!"

"And you are letting him! Following him around like some well trained puppy, so very compliant and passive. Are you so eager to go back to that cage, Thais? To be groped at in dark corners, threatened with tranquility for every slip-up or slight, be it real or imagined? What is left for you there but a broken spirit and years of unhappy memories?"

Thais could not help but think upon the old woman's words. There was more than a bit of truth to what she was saying. What did await her at the circle but a lifetime of almost-freedom and hiding in plain sight from the men who watched over her? For the first time in her life she was free of the Chantry's rules and, despite recent events, she was not willing to let that go quite yet. There was so much more of the world that she wanted to experience, but she did not wish to do so under the hand of yet another a master. And that is what would happen if she were to give in to Ismae's pleading and follow these people on their mad quest.

"Please, Thais," Ismae said quietly and with great restraint after a pregnant pause, "come with us. We can teach you to not be afraid of your gift. Maharette says-"

"Maharette is a crazy cow with a complexion problem," Thais snapped. "Something inside her is _wrong_, Ismae. I felt it when she touched me. There is a taint beneath her magic."

"She is a goddess," the old woman retorted tightly, lips thinned in displeasure.

"She is unnatural," Thais countered angrily, "and I will not be her accomplice in whatever bloody conflict she has planned between you and the Chantry."

"You will, Thais," Ismae ground out, power crackling around her. Thais could hear the threat in her mentor's words and mourned the rift that had sprouted between them. She could recall a thousand instances of finding comfort in the old woman's arms as a child, a hundred lessons learned at her knee…it all seemed so distant now, and she wondered when she had lost this woman who had been as close to family as she would ever have.

"Very well," Thais said quietly, kneeling in the soft earth to retrieve the forgotten book. Cradling it tightly to her chest she rose slowly, eyes fixed on Cullen. He had started in his captor's arms at her words, eyes at once disbelieving and vindicated. "You leave me no choice I suppose."

"I knew it," he muttered, his voice tolling with disgust, "You are a danger. Just like the rest of them. Given half a chance you turn your back on the Chantry and succumb to the forbidden. Gregoir should have locked you away in your head long ago and saved me all this trouble."

Thais shivered at his words, her only reaction to diatribe. She could not afford a bigger response, but his speech cut her deeply, and inside she was screaming her displeasure.

"What do I need to do?" she asked quietly and Ismae smiled in triumph.

"Join us my child. Help us uncover the path for our fellow mages and punish the men and women responsible for our imprisonment. Starting with this one right here." Thais simply nodded and slowly extended a hand outwards towards the old woman.

"Knife," she ordered quietly and one of the other mages quickly stepped forward, pressing a cunning hunting blade into her palm. Her fingers awkwardly gripped the handle, unused to having such a thing in her grasp. She knelt upon the ground, setting the book of magic gently to one side and held her breath as she angled the knife to hover over her wrist. Closing her eyes she inwardly asked for forgiveness before bringing the blade down harshly against her skin. Pain blossomed up her arm and her vision swam with red behind her closed eyelids. She could feel the power, the raw untamed wildness of it, beating in time with her blood. It felt different this time, almost joyful in having been acknowledged and summoned of its own accord. Thais swallowed hard and opened her eyes, watching as a river of crimson trickled from her wound, dropping quietly and portentously upon the soft earth below her. Shakily she dipped her fingers into the gash and rose to her feet, violet eyes honing in on the templar before her. He stared her down, back held high and defiant. She could see in that moment that he reviled her, and she was nothing more than a filthy maleficar in his eyes, a dangerous animal that needed to be put down. Knowing the risk she was about to take, it hurt her deeply, and she wondered if this course of action would do nothing more than seal the final nail in a coffin of her own making. But it was too late to turn back now, and so she focused all her attention on his hate filled gaze and let the rest of the world fall away. She had never intentionally done something like this before, but as Ismae had once taught her, will and intent were everything in magic. When at last she felt as prepared as she ever could be, she let out her breath and let the power inside her slip the leash.

The sound of screams filling the night air around her had her almost sagging in relief, but she dare not lose focus now, not when Cullen's life depended on her concentration. She had no idea what was happening around her, but it sounded different than when she had unleashed the rending. It was a small consolation…she only wanted to incapacitate the other mages, not slaughter them, she only hoped her intention had been clear enough before she unleashed the magic. Distantly she could hear Ismae screaming at her, but she paid it no heed. She could feel the spell spiraling back to her, completing its purpose and she just needed to hold out a little longer. When at last it ended, the power snapping back inside her in a spine tingling rush, the silence that greeted her was overwhelming and heady, and she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Cullen stared down at her in shock, the fact that he was now free of restraint clearly an afterthought.

"What was that?" he breathed and Thais glanced up at him, chest rising and falling in panting breaths.

"I told her they left me no choice," she muttered, wearily pushing herself to her feet. Shooting a hesitant glance around the camp she saw everyone of the mages lying prone on the ground, limbs akimbo and stiff as they stared unblinkingly up at the sky. One would have thought them dead were it not for the nearly identical look of outrage and fear laced through every one of their eyes. "I think…I think I paralyzed them."

"They're still alive?"

"Yes, and so are you," she muttered bending to pick up the book of blood magic from the ground. When Cullen said not a word she raised an eyebrow at him in anger and sighed. "Cullen, please, stop. You know how I hate it when you get all emotional, really. Just a simple thank you will suffice."

"How can you make jokes?" The templar demanded, the shock of the situation heightening his emotions. "You just succumbed to blood magic, again, and-"

"And saved your pious ass, you ungrateful prat," she screamed as she stomped over to him. She glared fiercely at him before balling her free hand into a fist and striking out at him in sheer rage. His head snapped to the side and he cradled his jaw with one calloused hand, staring at her in opened mouthed shock that she had hit him. "Did you truly think I would succumb to the plot of a madwoman and slaughter you out of hand on the fanciful promise of a better day? Wise up, Chantry Boy, there is no such thing. Not for me. If I am not the circle's prisoner than I am Maharette's puppet for whatever unholy scheme she has planned. Yes, I want my freedom so badly that I physically ache for it, but I want it on _my terms. _ Not yours, not theirs, not Anders', not anyone's. If you have issues with how I go about saving my ass and yours from the fire, then by all means I'll reverse the spell and let them have you. I'm sure I can find something in this book to aid that course of action right along."

Cullen said nothing but merely flinched under the weight of her tirade. When he offered no arguments she turned away from him and began poking around the paralyzed mages' robes, taking anything that could be of use in their travels. When she had finished, dumping vials of lyrium potions, food stores, and the book into a worn burlap pack she turned to him expectantly.

"You're taking the book?" he accused quietly and she narrowed her eyes in warning.

"Is that a problem?" she inquired with icy precision. When he said nothing, his silence all the answer she needed, she huffed and raised her hand to begin healing the gash on her wrist.

"That's how it starts you know," he murmured quietly and she looked up at him in confusion. "Healing the scars? Removing any trace of what you've done? Makes it hard to keep track of the number of times you succumb."

"Are you saying these weren't dire circumstances?" she asked dangerously.

"No," he replied, guardedly walking over to her and clasping her wrist gently in his hands. "But sooner or later there will be another 'dire' circumstance, and then another…how much flesh will you cut before you lose track of it all? At least if you have the scars, you know."

Thais blinked slowly up at him, unable to form a retort. She eased her wrist out of his grip and sent a tingle of magic into her arm, just enough to stop the blood flow. He smiled slightly when he saw it, pleased that she had not fully closed the wound.

"Ismae was right about one thing, Cullen," she said after a pause, eyes seeking out her mentor on the ground. "It is who I am. I can't deny…when she put that book in my hands…I felt, I don't know…_right_ for the first time in I don't know how long…and this thing, this power inside me…it's not going away. Tonight is a stunning example. It's time I came to terms with that." Thais turned to him with tears in her eyes and hefted the pack across her shoulders. "So congratulations, Chantry Boy…you were right. I am a blood mage."

She shrugged sadly and pushed by him, making her way back to the dusty road that would lead them to the circle. Cullen looked after her, knowing that her declaration should have been a victory for him, a confirmation that his faith and vigilance had not failed…but staring after her hunched frame, remembering the way her amethyst eyes had shone beneath a veil of tears, he felt nothing but bitter defeat.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry it took so long, lovelies! I've been working on a present for KatDancer2 (it's coming, I promise!) and I totally got caught up in playing Mass Effect (how did I not know this was a thing?! Soooo many feels. I may just have to start writing some Garrus/FemShep fics…)**

Maharette snapped roughly out of her trance and growled in frustration. She was kneeling on the stones of the abandoned ruins, arms hanging limply at her sides as her knuckles grazed the cold ground. Blood trickled sluggishly from twin lacerations along her wrist, pooling darkly on the ground. Disappointment filled her in a hot rush and she clenched her fists as she tried to maintain control on the forces swirling inside her, each fighting for supremacy. She had spent the better part of four hours, and far too much mana for her liking, tracking that little upstart Thais, only to have it end in dismal failure. The dream sharing should have been enough, but somehow the younger mage had resisted, her fear of the power that rode in her veins the cause of her refusal. And so she had to rely on her followers to secure the girl…but somehow it had gone all wrong. She had watched helplessly in her trance, unable to do anything but bear witness to the tragedy. Maharette had thought that Thais was like any other mage slowly drowning under the chokehold of the Chantry; offer a few pretty words of promise, a flashy display of power, and it was almost comical how quickly they took up her banner. So many souls out there yearning for the simple dream of freedom…they would take whatever chance was offered. It was what had drawn her to her current existence in the first place. And it had been glorious, but it was still not enough. Hiding out in dirty ruins, the templars always dogging her faithful…and the price of her power, it had a way of crawling ever higher. But all that would change with the addition of Thais. The girl was the key to her everlasting freedom, and by association the freedom of mages everywhere. And still she had resisted, fought back in a stunning display of power, and Maharette was once more without the prize she so desperately sought.

Snapping to her feet she screamed loud and long, the sound echoing darkly off the moss covered stones. She wanted to rage and tear about the chamber, blasting the walls with her magic until she brought the entire place down around her head. Her control was fraying. With every almost capture and disaster she had been forced to make another bargain, and it was beginning to be too much. Half the time she could no longer separate the parts of herself that were _her_ and the parts that were _them_. Even her appearance was no longer familiar. Distantly she could remember a time when her hair hung limp and mousy brown at her shoulders, and her skin broke out in angry red pimples at the slightest provocation. But that had all changed…with each bargain her flesh began to smooth and change color, and her hair grew shining and full from her scalp in a shade of the purest white. Maharette had not minded these changes, for they perpetuated the lie of her divine status. Her followers believed her to be a goddess, sighting her otherworldly appearance to back up their claims. If only they knew the truth…she was as far from godly as one could get.

She had made too many bargains to get where she was, and the demons inside her punished her every day for it; each one yearning to take control and see the world through her eyes. But Thais Amell would change all that. Maharette had hoped the girl would come willingly, but it was quickly becoming clear that force might be the only path available to her. No matter…Maharette didn't need to girl to be kept whole…just breathing….just breathing long enough for Maharette to sacrifice her.

~oOo~

"So, are you just going to ignore your injuries, or is this an attempt to be masculine and daring?" Thais asked after a time, eyes raking over Cullen's torso. The two had been walking in an oppressive and awkward silence for over an hour, neither willing to discuss what had just transpired at their small camp. At her sudden words Cullen came to a halt and regarded her skeptically.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're favoring your left side," Thais explained, flicking a hand out at the offending half of his body. "Those mages worked you over a bit, you have to be hurting. So I have to ask, are you just going to ignore it in some counter-productive attempt at being puffed up and manly, or are you going to let the highly trained healer you happen to be walking next to take a look at it?"

"Just like that?" Cullen gasped out, "An hour's worth of awkward as ass silence and you're back to your usual sunny self?" 

"Did my oh-so-proper templar just say 'ass?'" Thais gasped in mock horror, hands clasped tight to her chest, "Catch me, I may as well faint!" Cullen ignored her jibe, and the pleasant tingling that filled his bones at her use of the word 'my.'

"I believe an occasion such as this warrants a bit of rough and tumble language," he replied.

"Rough and tumble, eh?" Thais leered, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Seriously, how do you do that?" he demanded. "How do you go from tears and proclaiming yourself a blood mage to flirting in such a short span of time?"

"Would you rather I brood and cry and tear at my hair at the unfairness of it all?" she retorted, "Very well. I hate this, Chantry Boy. Beyond the telling of it. Do I wish that I did not bear this power? That my very blood is magic and it sings so sweetly and insistently in my veins that I can barely control it? It terrifies me. I was raised on tales of corruption and demons and a hell so vast that I cower at the thought, and now that legacy is a part of me. But oh, there is a bright side! At least I won't have to suffer it for long, because you are leading me to a fate far worse than damnation: a mystical lobotomy!" She paused and looked at him expectantly, arms stretched wide and impatient. When he offered no reply she huffed in displeasure and dropped her pack to the ground, bending down to rifle through it. "What is the point of dwelling when my time is finite? I'd rather spend these remaining days pretending that nothing has changed, soaking in every drop of the world around me. It may be the only chance I get. Now hold still."

Cullen thought on her words as she approached him, looking him over with the clinical eye of a healer. She ordered him to move in various ways, swinging an arm over his head, bending at the waist, taking note where he grimaced and what movements were stiff and half formed. He followed her orders without thinking, too caught up in her tirade to really care. All his life he had been taught that blood magic was a temptation; a path that the weak chose to follow. Mages who practiced that forbidden art brought the punishment of tranquility upon themselves and only offered apologies once caught. Never before did he think that some could not help who they were. If what Thais said was true, then could he really condemn her out of hand for something that was, at best, an accident of birth? She had resisted the power for so long, and it must have driven her mad to do so, even unaware as she was of the magics she possessed. It was a miracle that she had come so far without giving in, only succumbing, by accident, once her life had been in danger. And the one time she had willing called the power it had been to save his life, something he was grateful for, despite the cause.

If what Thais said was true, if blood magic was as much a part of her as the air she breathed, did that mean that the Chantry was wrong? That perhaps not all who wielded the dark power did so by choice?

He was so wrapped up in the confusing, and boarder line blasphemous train of thought that he almost did not notice Thais' nimble fingers working at the clasps of his armor. Once her actions made their way through the fog of his head he yelped and stumbled away from her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded far more shrilly than he intended.

"How am I to heal you without touching you, Chantry boy?" she asked dryly. "I may be good, but I'm not that good. Now come on, strip so I can started with the 'laying on of hands.'"

"Must you make this more difficult?" he muttered, a blush staining his cheeks.

"I am nothing, if not the model of professionalism when I am healing, Cullen, you have nothing to fear from me."

"Then why do you continue to taunt me with innuendo?" he demanded.

"Haven't started healing, now have I?" she countered with a wicked grin. He shot her a glare before turning his back on her, unwilling to disrobe while facing her. His hands made quick work of the armor, clattering to the ground in a noisy pile, leaving him clad only in his greaves, ceremonial skirt, and a thin linen shift that covered his chest. He gently eased the shift over his head, hissed at the pull and protest in his muscles. Once the fabric pooled to the ground he ventured a glance down at his side and grimaced in discomfort. A mottled stain and midnight blue and purple crawled over his ribcage, trailing upwards to curl over his shoulder. The bolt of magic Ismae had thrown at him had done more damage than he thought, and he felt the dull, aching throb of it acutely now, as if laying eyes upon the injury had made it real.

"Cullen," Thais whistled in awe, "that's one nasty piece of work. You should have said something sooner."

"Didn't realize it was this bad," he muttered, turning to face her. Thais had her mouth ready and open to respond but choked slightly when he had finished rounding on her. Cullen cocked his head in confusion as she stared hard at him, lavender eyes making a slow journey over the plains of his stomach up to the corded muscle in his neck and arms. She swallowed hard and flicked her eyes to meet his baffled ones before quickly looking away and clearing her throat.

"Well…uh…we should…"

"Thais, is something wrong?" he asked concerned.

"No, no! Nothing's w-wrong."

"I know it looks bad-"

"Oh, Chantry boy, bad is not the word I'd use to describe it," she breathed, so quiet he almost did not hear.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked with a frown.

"Don't mind the batty old blood mage," she said quickly, flashing him a too bright and cheerful smile. He peered at her through the moonlight, searching her face for clues as to her strange behavior. It was then that he noticed the darkening of her cheeks and he drew back in surprise.

"You're blushing," he murmured cautiously.

"Well can you really blame me?" she cried, throwing her arms heavenwards in exasperation. "Look at you!" He actually glanced down at the words, eyes raking over his torso, seeking out the cause of her flustered state. When he came up with nothing he glanced back up at her and shrugged, clearly not getting her meaning. "You're like a naughty woodprint come to life! All those muscles and…and those _muscles_. Here I thought you were just a pretty face but now I can see the tastiness is a whole package deal."

Finally her words clicked in his head and he smiled broadly, pleased for once that it was he and not her sending the other off kilter.

"I see how this game is played," he teased, "you can flirt and seduce and play 'the harp' to your heart's content but the minute you are faced with a few muscles-"

"That's not a _few_."

"You act like a blushing school girl."

"I wonder why?" she countered with a grin, "It's not as if mages are known for their physique. You're quite the sight, Chantry Boy. It's shame you keep all that hidden beneath armor and vows."

At the mention of his vows he felt his smile slip from his face and he glanced away from her. All too often lately he found himself losing ground to the young woman in front him. First the stories, then the lesson in flirting. Not five minutes ago he had been contemplating the idea that perhaps everything he had ever been taught was wrong…and now, now he was half clothed and bantering about in a most inappropriate manner with a woman who was about to touch him in a somewhat intimate fashion. How did she do this? How did she find the chinks in his emotional armor and slip in, disarming him with a smile and that touch of wicked in her voice?

Thais noticed the change in his demeanor immediately and sighed wearily, bending down to retrieve a bandage from the pack on the ground.

"Well, that was nice while it lasted. Back to doom and gloom. Right. Arms up, Chantry Boy, let's get you patched up."

He obeyed without complaint, head turned away from her ministrations, lest she get the wrong the idea. When her fingers gently ghosted over his skin, fingers pushing lightly against the tender flesh he shivered at the sensation. He tried to pretend that it was from anticipation and pain, but a part of him knew, deep down, that is was from a whole different emotion.

After a few more minutes of prodding and exploring, Thais firmly placed both her palms against his flesh and began to heal him in earnest. A ghostly song spilled from her lips, soft and ethereal and her hands began to glow an otherworldly blue. It was an oddly beautiful sight, and Cullen felt himself lulled by the quiet music flowing from her, only to gasp a moment later when her magic filled him. It was like nothing he had ever before experienced. It was at once soothing and uncomfortable, and he swore he could taste honeysuckle and thunderstorms on the back of his tongue. He could not help but glance down and watched in wonder as the bruise that marred his flesh retreated back beneath his skin, the purples and blues fading to sickly yellows and greens.

It was over all too soon and he almost groaned at the loss of contact when Thais removed her hands. They were back a second later, wrapping a length of linen bandage around his torso with clinical detachment.

"There," she said softly as her fingers fumbled to tie off the fabric, "I healed the bruising, and you had a crack in one rib. It's still fragile, nothing a day or two of limited movement should cure. As long as we don't encounter any more psychopathic mages or darkspawn you should be right as rain."

"Thank you, Thais," Cullen said softly, seizing her wrist in his hand, forcing her to focus her attention on his face. She blinked up at him, face placid, and he could not stop his thumb from tracing a gentle circle against her skin. Her eyes flickered closed before she gingerly removed herself from his grasp.

"You should get dressed," she said hoarsely, "we still have quite a bit of distance to put between us and Maharette's cult of crazies."

Cullen complied, swallowing hard against the strange tumult of emotions riding him. Thais busied herself with rearranging their supplies, and he could not help but notice her popping a cork from a vial of lyrium and swallowing the contents in one greedy gulp. She sighed in contentment and threw her head backwards, a smile ghosting over her lips.

"How badly did that drain you?" he asked as he finished clasping his armor into place.

"Would have been nothing if I hadn't cast that paralysis spell earlier," Thais said dismissively, "apparently that one was quite a doozy. I barely had enough in me to make you pretty again."

Cullen hid his smile as he ducked his head under the pretense of checking a clasp. He made sure he was composed before facing her once more, and she met his gaze with a nonchalance that he had come to expect from her.

"Come on," he said, jerking his head back towards the road, "there's a village a mile or two off. We can rest up there. Sleep in an actual bed, perhaps, with linens and furs."

"I'm a simple girl, Cullen," she said grandly, walking past him, "a soft surface and a hard body to keep me warm will suffice."

"Perhaps we'll find a nice farm boy for you to corrupt," Cullen sighed, falling into step beside her.

"If no one else is volunteering for corruption, I suppose that'll have to do," she said with a wink.

"You are incorrigible."

"Trust me, Chantry Boy, I need no encouraging."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** **Ugh! I don't know what's wrong with me. Writing has been so hard lately. I love this story and I have the whole thing planned out and am super excited about it, but when I sit down to type I just stare blankly at my screen until I get so frustrated that I give up and go play mass effect instead. AHHHH! I need this writers block to go away. **

"That was the beginning, wasn't it?" Thais asked, grinning up at him. Cullen smiled down at her sadly and she rolled off his lap, gracefully rising to her knees. Her face was a whisper away from his and she grinned impishly, eyes flicking down to his split lips. "That moment I saw you, touched you, filled you up with my magic…it began to change between us."

"But we had such a long time before the climax of our tale," he argued and she giggled.

"Climax, Chantry Boy?"

"Such a one track mind," Cullen blushed, though he could not hide his smile. It faltered a minute later when the sound of a wet scream echoed around them. That one sound made things sharper, clearer, more painful, and he could suddenly feel his protesting ribs, the blood seeping from a gash along his arm, and the cold that seeped into his thighs from sitting on the frigid stone.

"Hey," Thais whispered softly, eyes seeking his, "don't lose me, Chantry boy. There's so much more to tell. I want to hear every climax inducing detail." When she leaned in to him, lips seeking out his with determination, he turned away from her and felt tears sting his eyes. It was hard to walk the tightrope of reality and wishing; one misstep and he would fall into damnation, screaming all the way down. He needed to keep the balance, to be cognoscente of the here and now while living briefly in the past.

With a hand rising to catch her wrist in his shaking hand, he returned his focus on the pretender before him.

"Yes," he whispered, tracing a circle against her flesh like he had that night she had healed him, "it was the beginning."

~oOo~

Something was wrong with the village, that much was clear as the tiny cottages dotted that the horizon came into view. The low rising sun sent sharp rays of golden kissed pinks across the sky, painting the quaint holding as if it were a canvas hung upon a wall. It was a pretty picture, but something was missing. There was no smoke rising from chimneys signaling the baking of the morning's bread, no live stock being led to pasture. It was deathly still and Cullen felt himself tense warily, eyes sweeping the horizon for signs of danger. As they neared, Thais began to notice the unsettling calm, and her feet carried her faster towards the buildings, heart clenching off beat as she ran through all the horrifying possibilities that could cause such a terrifyingly idyllic scene.

"What do you think it is?" she asked softly as they crested a hill that brought the village into full view. "Is it Maharette?"

"I don't know," Cullen replied tightly, his eyes narrowed as he looked down upon the silent homes and empty animal pens. The holding lay in a wide swath of a valley floor, shielded from the elements by a rocky outcropping of cliffs on one side, and a dense forest on the other. A pleasant stream cut through the village, feeding into Lake Calenhad in the distance. All in all the very picture of pastoral elegance.

The pair continued swiftly on their course and arrived at the outskirts just as the sun had cleared the horizon. A lone man, bent and grizzled, barred their path, a grim expression on his face as he thrust a shovel into the soft earth. All around him, freshly turned mounds of soil dotted the land and Thais knew that the sight only boded one thing.

"Cullen, I have to get in there," she breathed, feet already carrying her forward. The templar thrust a hand out to stop her, grabbing her upper arm in a vice like grip.

"Thais, you can't just go bounding into an unknown situation," he argued, fearing for her safety.

"It's not unknown," she murmured, shaking off his grip and sprinting away, blowing straight by the elderly man who started at her sudden appearance.

"Wait!" he cried, shovel forgotten in his hands, "You can't-"

"What's happened here?" Cullen demanded, drawing the man's attention. From the corner of his eye he could see Thais slip into the village's community hall and disappear from sight.

"Plague," the stranger replied, grim and mournful. "Swept in like brush fire. These are the first to fall…almost half the village is infected."

"Surely your healers have it contained?" Cullen insisted, bewildered that the sickness had spread this far south. The man snorted in disbelief and shook his head, returning his attention to the digging before him.

"We're a small holding…what mages we had were taken by you lot long ago," he said with the slightest hint of malice, waving a hand at the Chantry insignia upon his armor. "All we have is a few midwifes and lessons passed down through generations. We never stood a chance."

"Well you have one now," Cullen murmured as he took his leave of the old man and followed Thais' path through the village. When he arrived at the common hall he was immediately gagged by the smell of illness and human suffering that seemed to permeate the air. All around him moans of agony sounded in the great space and he desperately sought out his errant charge. He found her kneeling at a cot, hands pressed firmly to a man's forehead, eyelids closed and trembling as she filled him with the gift of healing. He cautiously approached her and crouched down to address her, knowing he was about to begin a losing battle.

"Thais," he murmured, "we don't have time for this."

"Beg to differ, Chantry Boy," she said dismissively once she had finished her spell, fingers feeling for a pulse in her patient's wrist. Whatever she sensed seemed to satisfy her and she moved on to the next victim without pause. "We have all the time in the world."

Cullen had to forcibly swallow the argument that bubbled from his throat. Any other time in the world he would have acquiesced, had done what he could ease the suffering of the people around him; but once the old man outside had uttered the word "plague" Cullen knew he was racing against a very dangerous clock. Thais would want to help, would want to stay until the very last person rose from the sick bed healthy and whole. Healing was as much a part of her as the blood magic, perhaps even more so since she had embraced the discipline with a joyful heart. He had heard tales, mixed in with the stories of Edmund and the rumors of her dalliance with Anders; she was extremely talented in the medicinal arts, unnaturally so. Because of this he knew that their little detour to this unfortunate village would last well beyond the three weeks he had planned for their journey…three weeks that was cutting it too close for his own, personal needs.

The last shipment of Lyrium to Kinloch hold had been delayed due to inclement weather in the Frostback Mountains. At the time Cullen had thought nothing of it, sure that when he returned from Andralia he would receive his dosage. But Maharette's schemes had thrown a kink into his plans, and he knew without a doubt that he was living on borrowed time. Lyrium withdrawal was a slow process, one that took a month or so to show the signs, and he was fast approaching what was deemed acceptable. If they stayed in this village, he would most certainly succumb to withdrawal and he could not let Thais, or any other soul, see it. It was the Chantry's dirty little secret, one even Cullen disagreed with, but he had been fed the element for so long he was chained by its laws as much as any other templar.

"Thais, please," he begged, "You can't possibly do this. You can't heal all these people."

"The hell I can't," she snapped, eye blazing. "Thanks to Maharette's little attack we have plenty of lyrium potions and I'm more than mage enough to help these people. You took on a contingency of darkspawn, despite the odds, Chantry Boy. The least you can do is allow me my battlefield."

"I have to get back-"

"And we will," she seethed, rising to poke him in his chest, "Don't worry _Sir Cullen_, you can still haul me back to the circle and get your accolades. There will be plenty of time to watch me brought low. But right now? I need to work. So either move that pretty ass of yours and help me, or run along back to the tower and get yourself an army of templars. Because I guarantee you're going to need it if you plan on taking me away from these people." She underscored her point by grabbing a nearby bundle of linens and shoving them into his arms. He staggered back from the force of her will and push and she cocked an eyebrow in defiance.

"Thais, there are…other factors to be considered," he said slowly and patiently, following her about the massive room as she flitted from patient to patient.

"Oh? And what would those be?"

"Maharette, for one," he said triumphantly, pleased to have found a valid point to address. "Her followers are but half a day's journey behind us. We're quite easily found and they will come for you."

"Let them," Thais muttered darkly before kneeling beside a young woman, her face sickly yellow and sheened in sweat. "She's bad off. I can smell it on her flesh. The fever will burn her out if we're not careful. Here, help me strip her."

"Help you what now?" he blustered, turning away.

"Strip. Her," Thais said with over exaggerated enunciation. "This isn't a bordello, Chantry Boy, it's a sick room. You may be a stuttering prig of a virgin, but you _ do _ know the difference, right?"

"Of-of course," he squeaked in reply, hesitantly kneeling beside her and laying his burden of linens gently to the ground. Thais nodded brusquely before beginning the indelicate work of disrobing the patient in front of her. Cullen fumbled about as best he could, lifting and tugging when strength was required. Soon all thoughts of impropriety fled as inch after inch of infected flesh was revealed. Ghastly black lesions marred the woman's skin, festering and angry. They seemed to pulse with her poisoned blood and Cullen stumbled back, retching violently at the sight. When he at last had emptied his stomach of its meager contents he knelt panting on the floor.

"If you're all done with your theatrics I need you to fetch me that water over there," Thais said, never bothering to even glance his way. Scowling at her jibe he rose to do as she bid, returning moments later with a cracked earthenware jug half full of tepid water. Nodding in acknowledgement Thais gestured to the pile of linens as she dipped her hands into the water, "Tear me off some strips. We need to draw the fever away from her brain." Cullen moved to do so, noting absently that the jug now had a sheen of frost coating its jagged rim. When his charge removed her hands they were a pale blue and Thais clenched her teeth against the pain. "Damnit, I can never get that one down," she muttered through chattering teeth. Cullen handed her a strip of cloth and arched an eyebrow at her condition.

"Done with your theatrics?" he mocked. To his surprise she flashed him a smile before dipping the linen in the now freezing water.

"When I do it it's colorful commentary," she said primly, glancing at him sidelong from beneath the fan of her lashes. "Don't worry about it, Cullen. You should have seen me my first healing. It was an amputation…not only did I vomit all over Ismae's shoes, I then passed out in the mess. Took me a while to live that one down."

Cullen grinned and made to tease her with the revelation, but they were both drawn from their camaraderie by an agonized cry from their patient. Leaping into action the both hovered over her thrashing form, trying futilely to still her. Thais lay the compress against the woman's brow, muttering soothing words of nonsense that barely registered through the haze of fever.

"Hold this," she murmured before closing her eyes and calling out a spell. Instantly their patient collapsed against the cot, limbs limp and empty of any fight. Cullen gasped in shock when Thais quickly lashed out and slapped the woman hard across the face, her head lolling sharply to the side.

"What was that for?"

"To make sure she's out," the mage replied as she dug through the pack of belongings, "this isn't going to be pretty and if she were conscious I feared she'd die from shock alone. Blast it! I left the damn hunting knife at the camp. Give me your dagger."

"No," Cullen said firmly, sitting up a bit straighter, "I may turn a blind eye to what you have to do to get us safely home, but I will not enable your damnation."

"I've been responsible for my damnation long before you ever showed up, Chantry boy," she sighed, "but this isn't about blood. This is about good old fashioned, down and dirty medicine. My magic can only do so much, and her infection is too far advanced. So unless you want to lance her lesions and drain the pus, _hand me the damn dagger!"_

At the word "pus" Cullen paled and hastily unsheathed the blade from his waist, fair throwing it at her. She huffed in triumph before sweeping her eyes over the woman's body, seeking out the best place to begin her ministrations. Cullen felt the room tilt and spin as she cut with quick, efficient precision, splitting a black mound that cut along the woman's hip. An off white froth immediately bloomed to the surface and Thais exerted pressure against the wound, squeezing more of the foul smelling liquid to the surface. Through it all she called for scraps on linen and Cullen handed them to her unthinkingly, too fascinated by the grisly and stomach churning scene before him. When at last blood, dark and ruby colored, seeped from between Thais' filthy fingers she sighed in relief and let a tingle of magic flow into the woman's body, sealing the wound between one blink of the eye and the next.

Over the next hour the pair worked on the woman; draining lesions and changing compresses in an effort to break the fever and outrun the plague coursing through the woman's veins. Twice Thais had to recast the sleep spell, the pain of lancing proving too great. It was grim business but in the end Thais was satisfied with her efforts and deemed the patient stable enough to survive the night. At her words Cullen collapsed in relief, exhausted beyond on all reason. He had once spent an entire three days on a battlefield with barely any respite, and he did not feel as tired then and he did now. Something about fighting an enemy that lives in someone's very blood drains a person to breaking. His only consolation had been watching Thais. She was magnificent; barking out orders with a command that very few could hold, and working against the very nature of Death as if it were nothing. Cullen hated to admit it but she damn near glowed when she wielded the magic, and he felt himself transfixed by the very sight of her. Even now, hands sticky with blood and Maker only knew what foul substances, hair mussed eyes half lidded with exhaustion, there was a light to her that drew him in. He had always known, in a dismissive sort of way, that she was attractive, but now he could see that she was stunning…and damnit if it didn't knock his legs out from under him.

"Come on," she said wearily, pushing to her feet with a groan. Cullen started at her words and stared up at her as if she had sprouted a second head.

"Pardon?" 

"No rest for the wicked, Cullen," she said with an exhausted grin, "There are plenty more people waiting to die…I intended not to let them." Her words were woozy and panted and he saw the moment in which her eyes rolled up and he knew she was about to faint. He surged forward and caught her clumsily in his arms, half risen from the floor. The two crashed against the wooden surface and Cullen winced as her shoulder crushed against his elbow in a most displeasing manner. The impact startled her back into consciousness and she blinked about in confusion.

"Well now, this is quite the turn. If you wanted me to be on top all you had to do was say so, Chantry boy," she murmured wryly. Cullen guffawed and eased himself out from underneath her, surprised that he had not had a more visceral reaction to her flirting.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," she muttered, raising a hand to rest upon her temple, "just need a lyrium potion and a decent meal. Haven't really eaten much since Andralia."

"Let me rectify that," Cullen said gently, eyes scanning over the great the hall as if a trestle table of food would magically appear for strength of wanting.

"No time," Thais insisted, crawling over to their pack. Shaking and pale hands dug through the contents, pulling free a vial of the blue liquid. She downed the vial in one smooth gulp, taking a deep breath as it worked its way through her body. Seconds later she seemed to stand a bit straighter with more of a flush to her cheeks. Cullen watched baffled as she rose to her feet, still shaky and unbalanced, and slowly made her way to the next poor soul who needed her help. Almost against his will he rose and followed her, silently agreeing to help her in this doomed endeavor. As they went about the room, tending to the dying, Cullen's mind ticked off every soul they saved, and every second that brought him closer to his own downfall.


End file.
